Prisoner Of War
by me 4evaful
Summary: Legolas is captured during the Battle of Helm's Deep. AU -:- DISCLAIMER: All recognisable characters belong to their respective owners
1. Chapter One: Awake

Chapter One - Awake

So this is what hell felt like.

Alone in a dark, windowless room, there was no way, even for his elvish eyes, to see anything in this cell. He didn't even know where the door was.

Sitting alone in the darkness, Legolas relived those fateful moments where he was taken.

It had all started at Helm's Deep. He had been quite content to follow Gandalf there, but then he saw the host with his own eyes. He knew there and then that Theoden's host could not break the lines of Isengard. And, while he had tried to keep up his usual distant exterior, the small part of his heart that was possibly the most cynical part of him (and that was saying something) had broken out of its confines that the elf tried so hard to maintain. And that, of course, meant that the rest of him decided that the distant exterior could, to put it simply, sod off.

Somebody who was more like his father than himself had unleashed itself that night onto Aragorn and Gimli, and Legolas had fought hard to regain the more "_him_" side of his personality. Legolas loved his father, but for all Thranduil's greatnesses, rationality was not one of them. And unfortunately, that weakness had shown itself in him that night. Legolas' last words to Aragorn had been despair-fuelled wrath, and to be perfectly honest, the elf knew that Aragorn's response was not entirely undeserved.

Still, however, sad though his last words to his best friend had been, they had very little to do with how he managed to end up in this situation. Somehow, under Aragorn's leadership, Theoden's soldiers were doing very well at holding back the storm of the traitorous wizard. However, Legolas' keen eyes had noticed something silhouetted against the clouds, and with dawning comprehension and horror, the elf realised the danger for what it was – Sauron, distrustful of his little white puppet, had decided to send his own most faithful servants to oversee and "aid" the Uruk-hai in their attempts to overthrow the people of Rohan. Or more accurately: the Nine had come to check that Saruman was behaving himself and being a good boy. And not hiding any special rings of power.

Legolas, being the only person in Rohan to have noticed this, including the Uruk-hai, decided that they had hidden in the clouds long enough. He wasn't exactly on speaking terms with Aragorn, never having "had the chance" to apologise to Aragorn for his earlier behaviour, shot one of them down without question. It was the ear-splitting shriek that the creature gave as it tumbled to the ground that had brought the whole battlefield to silence. Legolas looked up, and for a second his eyes met with one of them – their leader froze but for a moment, and Legolas saw, instead of eyes, two black pits of... nothing...

It was this that scared him the most that night.

As their eyes locked onto each other, Legolas realised that this leader knew that he had been travelling with the Ring-bearer, and that he held vital information about the Ring's whereabouts. If he had had any sense he would have run for the hills.

If he could have swallowed his pride.

Yet, for whatever reason, he didn't. He chose to stay and fight. Or, as the case proved to be, shoot down the Witch-King's steed, fail to notice a second one descending from behind him, get knocked forward off the battlements into a puddle surrounded by Uruk-hai, and feel a hand, so impossibly cold that it made Cahadras and the Redhorn Gate feel like a sauna by comparison, and then... nothing.

Whatever they had given him had made him feel groggy. He couldn't immediately tell that he was awake, as the room they had placed him in was so dark and impenetrable that no light could get in, no sound could get in, no smell could get in, and so the only thing that allowed him to tell reality from the horrific nightmares of endless crushing darkness was the feel of the cold hard stone on his face as he lay on his side, trying so hard to keep himself from succumbing to the terror that gripped his heart.

And his biggest regret was that the last words he had spoken to his best friend... would _ever_ speak to his best friend... were ones of despair and anger. And he never apologised for them.

Suddenly the door opened, just a few feet from his face. There was a seemingly blinding light that streamed from the rough archway, as two orcs stood there with torches. The elf's eyes reaccustomed to the sight of light, as though it was something he had totally forgotten.

"Come," one of them said, as the other freed him and hauled him to his feet. "The Dark Lord wishes to speak with you."


	2. Chapter Two: Fight

Chapter Two – Fight

_Three days earlier..._

It had hardly escaped Aragorn's attention that the morning after the battle, despite the fact that they had won, Legolas was nowhere to be seen. The good news was that he was not among the collected dead. The bad news was... he wasn't among the collected living either. So when all the bodies of those that had been slain in battle had been gathered, everybody who had been involved was now accounted for.

Everyone, that is, save Legolas.

Aragorn was beginning to wonder what could have happened to his friend when he met Gimli. The dwarf had a nasty cut on his forehead, but other than that, seemed absolutely fine. And was also looking for the elf, greatly desiring to tell him that Legolas must have lost their game because Gimli had managed to kill several at once by throwing them into one of the Nine's steeds. Aragorn, however, was more worried than smug.

"You don't think something has happened to him?" Aragorn asked the dwarf, who looked mildly amused at the prospect.

"Yes. I think he fell into a puddle and doesn't want us to see his face muddy."

Aragorn glared at his companion, clearly not sharing the joke.

"Look, if you're so worried, then we go and ask if anyone saw anything." The dwarf looked mildly exasperated by Aragorn's worry.

"I really don't think that will work... " Aragorn's half-hearted attempt at dissuading the stubborn dwarf was about as effective as going up to a dragon and asking it nicely if it would please surrender its treasure.

"Has anyone seen Legolas?" Gimli's voice rang out over the confused din that filled the crowded hall of people trying to get food, water, and, most importantly, blankets. "Y'know, the elf? Tall, blonde, a little bit ditzy?" His cheek earned him a hard stamp on his toes from Aragorn.

As Aragorn had predicted, very few people paid even the slightest bit of attention to them. Aragorn folded his arms and looked at the dwarf, intending to pass a smug comment, when a quiet voice interrupted him.

"I did."

They both turned, shocked, to face an archer, who sat very close to the door, his arm bandaged and in a sling. There was a blanked draped around his shoulder, but the man was shaking uncontrollably, so it was slowly slipping down his back.

"He was taken." The man's voice was dripping with terror.

"What? When?" Gimli's normally amused exterior was shattered, replaced with one of panic.

"He... He was the one who shot down the first... the first..."

"Ringwraith," supplied helpfully, with more than a hint of impatience in his tone.

The man nodded. "Yes. And then two others flew at him. One from the front, and one from behind..." The man gave a poorly suppressed shudder. "He shot down the first one, but the one from behind came and knocked him off the wall. The second one he shot down put his hand over his mouth and he fell limp. They dragged him onto the steed and they... they... they took him away." The man buried his face in his hands.

He didn't see the masks of shock and horror on Aragorn and Gimli's faces.

* * *

><p>Had the orcs known that Legolas still had strength left in him, they might have treated him with a little more caution. As it was, they saw an elf, deprived of all his strength, and frogmarched him down the rough hallway. However, Legolas was <em>not<em> deprived of all the strength he had, and his mind certainly wasn't deprived of all the intelligence that it held. He could remember, as clearly as though it was yesterday, a conversation that he had had with Gandalf, seemingly a lifetime ago.

"_And so am I, very dangerous. More dangerous than anything you are likely to meet, unless you are brought alive to the seat of the Dark Lord._"

That was where he was going. He _was_ being brought alive to the seat of the Dark Lord. And if these orcs thought he was going to come quietly, then they were either very stupid or very high. Or both.

Legolas stumbled as he tripped over the rough stone floor. One of the orcs stopped, turned around exasperatedly and stomped back with every intention of hauling him up. However, Legolas had other ideas.

In a fluid, well-practised move, the elf drew himself up sharply, pulling out the orc's sword from its sheath as he did so, before elbowing the orc sharply in the face. His "friend" turned back, and raised the sword high above his head, before bringing it down with an extraordinary amount of strength onto Legolas' head. Or would have done, provided that Legolas hadn't spun out of the way. Using his opponent's temporary confusion to his advantage, he stamped on the blade while it was down, causing it to slip from the orc's hand. The elf caught it before it hit the floor. He turned his now weaponless opponent so that its back was to his front, and drew the orc very close and placed the second sword to its throat, pointing the other sword at the first orc's head. Not that the first orc showed any signs of getting up soon, as the elbow to the face had thrown it into the wall, giving it a concussion and knocking it out.

"You have five seconds to give me a reason why I shouldn't kill you!" hissed Legolas in the conscious orc's ear.

"Because..." the orc whispered desperately. "Because if you do, then _they'll_ kill _you!_" The orc pointed at the circle of hitherto unseen archers lining the balconies that ran the length of the corridor.

"Drop your weapons!" called one of them to Legolas. And the elf obeyed their orders. Despicable though these orcs were, and despite just how happy it would make him feel, Legolas had no desire to sacrifice his immortality.

Yet.

* * *

><p><em>Three days earlier (again)...<em>

"But _if_ what this man says is true, then Legolas could be in danger!"

Aragorn was pacing the length of this somewhat emptier hall, having just filled the other occupants of the hall, Gandalf, Theoden, Eomer and Gimli, in on what the archer had told them.

"And, pray, how do you propose we help him?" asked Gandalf sarcastically, who was leaning against the pillar. "Would you have us storm the Dark Tower?"

"Maybe, if that's what it takes!"

"Aragorn!" snapped Gimli, who was sitting on the ornate throne that occupied the centre of the hall, his short legs dangling a foot off the ground. "Think about what you are saying! We can't storm the Dark Tower! It's suicide! We'd get killed before we got into the garden!"

Aragorn stopped pacing by a bench and collapsed onto it, his face buried in his hands. "He saved my life." His voice was thicker than usual. "When I was younger, he saved my life in the wild."

Gandalf looked at him piteously. "I'm sorry, Aragorn."

Aragorn didn't raise his head. "The last things we said to each other were cruel and unkind..." Suddenly he got to his feet, tear tracks etching their way down his face, and walked towards the door. "I don't care if you're not coming, but I'm not going to sit back and let him die-"

"ARAGORN!" Gandalf seized the man's shoulders and spun him around. "The Legolas we know is dead! Either in body or in spirit, because you know as well as I do what Sauron will do to him even if he _is_ still alive!"

Aragorn looked into Gandalf's eyes, desperately trying not to believe him.

"I'm sorry," Gandalf said. "But don't throw away your life needlessly. He wouldn't want that."

As Gandalf stared into the man's eyes, he saw, behind all the attempts not to believe Gandalf, a small part of his realisation that Gandalf was right. Aragorn shook himself free and stormed out the door. He walked out into the evening light, and, once he had got as far away from Gandalf as possible, sat down and wept.

Eowyn found him like this ten minutes later.

"Aragorn..." she said tentatively. "What's wrong?"

Aragorn looked up at Eowyn, before looking down again at his hands. "Legolas has been captured by the Nazgûl."

Eowyn clapped her hands to her mouth, before lowering them. "He may still be alive..." she muttered hopefully.

"Yes, but then that's even worse!" Aragorn's voice was a mixture of grief and exasperation and as he looked up to face Eowyn, his face mirrored his voice. "Do you know what Sauron does when he captures elves?"

Eowyn shook her head, fear and confusion etched in every line of her face.

"He... He..." Aragorn's voice caught in his throat.

"He what?" she asked.

"He takes them... tortures them... and... and he turns them into orcs!" he finally blurted, before breaking down again.

Eowyn blinked back tears, before trying a different tack.

"Why him?"

Aragorn looked at her, and saw puzzlement on her face.

"Why him specifically?" she asked. "Why not Theoden, or Eomer, or you?"

"I don't know..." Aragorn's voice was bitter. "Because he's an elf, because he's the Prince of Mirkwood, because he was travelling with us..." his voice trailed off, comprehension dawned upon him as everything fell into place.

"What is it?" Eowyn asked.

"Legolas may still be alive."

* * *

><p>Legolas was indeed still alive. The archers had decided <em>not<em> to shoot the elf, and the unconscious orc was replaced by one made of sturdier stuff. His arms had been tied together in front of him, and this time, he made it to the hall without anything interesting happening.

The hall was somewhat longer than most, spanning approximately 100 metres in length, and, like the corridors that led to it, rough balconies were cut out of the stone near the top of the walls. _Unlike_ the corridors that led to it, however, the floor was tiled with large, smooth slabs of a dark red stone. Near the centre was engraved the symbol that embossed every banner of Mordor – the symbol of the Red Eye.

It was near the end of this hall that the throne of Sauron stood, black, ornately carved and embossed with gold and rubies. Legolas, despite the danger he was in, couldn't fail to admire the attention to detail that Sauron paid his hall. And Sauron himself sat on this throne. His armour was exactly like how it was described in legend, and so was the menace that seemed to emanate from him. As Legolas was thrown to his knees, he struggled to repress a shudder.

"So, Legolas son of Thranduil," Sauron said in a voice that would strike fear into the heart of even the bravest warrior. "Welcome to Mordor."


	3. Chapter Three: Silence

Chapter Three - Silence

Legolas looked down at his knees, afraid to make eye contact with Sauron.

"Why have you brought me this?" Sauron drawled to somebody standing on the sidelines. Legolas didn't raise his head, but chanced a glance to his right to see who Sauron addressed, although he didn't need it.

"He has... information..." said the Witch-King of Angmar.

"Information..." Sauron seemed to play with the word on his tongue. "Information on what?"

Legolas now realised that Sauron did not actually need to ask these questions, as he knew all of his captain's mind, and that these questions were for show, either for Legolas' benefit, or for the that of the surrounding orcs.

"Information on the whereabouts of the One."

"Information on the whereabouts of the One, eh?" Once again, Sauron seemed to play with his words.

"If I might speak..." Legolas raised his head. A grim defiance took him as he stared into the eyes of his tormentor. "I do not fear you. I have sworn an oath, and I will not break it. I will tell you _nothing!_"

At this, Sauron laughed. "You do not fear me?" he replied sceptically. "Now, I think we both know that isn't true."

"Oh really?" Legolas got to his feet, staring defiantly at Sauron. Sauron looked straight back, and Legolas noticed that at the bottom of the endless darkness of his eyes shone two small red pinpricks of light.

"Get down on your knees." Sauron's voice was impassive.

"No."

"Get down on your knees!" A hint of impatience mixed with something that Legolas couldn't quite make out, but thought it was anger, had crept into Sauron's voice.

"Why should I?" Legolas said, anger flooding into his voice. "I, the Prince of Mirkwood, will _never_ kneel to you!"

"GET DOWN- ON- YOUR- _KNEES_!" Sauron screamed at Legolas, and that was when Legolas realised what it was in Sauron's voice.

It wasn't anger.

It was fear.

For nobody had ever defied him in this way, and being faced with somebody who would defy the commanding voice that haunted the nightmares of all who heard it scared Sauron no end, for this voice had a magic in it that only the strongest minds could resist.

The elf standing before him had one of those minds.

"NO!" the elf screamed.

With a nod to the two orcs who had brought Legolas to him, Sauron commanded them to force him to kneel. He would not be defied by his prisoners, even in such a small way.

However the elf made sure they never pushed him down, and elbowed them both in the face. Clearly the bonds were not doing their job.

But Sauron would not be defeated so easily. With but a glance at Legolas, the elf felt an extraordinary amount of pain, and, while under the influence of this, the recovering orcs threw him back down to the floor.

"Right." Sauron's voice had returned to its usual state. "Now that we've got that pathetic incident out of the way, what shall we do with you?"

"Well he's not going to tell us freely," said the leader of the Nine.

Sauron looked at his captain wearily. "You worked that out all by yourself, did you?"

The Witch-King nodded.

"Well thank you, captain, for that statement of the blindingly obvious-" The Witch-King looked offended. "-But the same question still stands. He has information that we want." Sauron paused, looking around at his servants, and then at his prisoner. "What are we going to do with him?"

"Well, we could extract it from him," one of the orcs piped up.

_Extract it from me?_ Legolas thought. _How are they going to do that?_

Sauron turned to the orc with a similar expression on his face to the one he had given his captain.

"Same question I asked him." Sauron directed the comment at the orc, nodding pointedly to his captain.

"Yes sir, I did."

"Well done then." Sauron gave him a sarcastic little clap. His friend also applauded him, but with much more enthusiasm and much less sarcasm. The orc gave a small bow, while being shot evils across the room by the Witch-King.

"But _how_ are we going to extract it from him?" Sauron asked, clearly not amused by the exchange going on between his servants.

"Well there is one method that springs to mind..." The Witch-King was determined to outdo the orcs across the room.

"I repeat – you worked that out all by yourself, did you?"

The Witch-King nodded eagerly. "Mm-Hmm!"

Legolas worked it out at the same time, with a sense of foreboding. _Of course. I should have realised – Torture._

"Well I suppose that is slightly more useful than your last input, or his input, for that matter." The Witch-King looked smugly at the orc, who wore a scowl, Legolas noted, that would rival Gimli's early in the morning.

"What number?" asked the other orc.

"Zero," said Sauron, smiling evilly at Legolas. It was this smile that was the scariest part of Sauron.

The Witch-King put his icy hand over Legolas' mouth and the elf's world faded to black.


	4. Chapter Four: Dance

Chapter Four – Dance

Aragorn was not happy. His attempt to leave had been thwarted by Théoden, who chose _that_ moment to enter the stables, and found Aragorn mounting Hasufel. He might have been able to disguise his actions if that was all he that was out of the ordinary in the stables, but Théoden had noticed Arod, who had a bridle on and a lead that was wrapped around Aragorn's arm.

"Aragorn!"

Aragorn sighed and turned to face the wizard.

"Aragorn, get down from there. Legolas is dead and you know it."

"Théoden, please," Aragorn begged. "Legolas was taken for one reason and one reason only – he has information regarding the whereabouts of something very important. They wouldn't kill him until he had given it."

"What makes you so sure he _hasn't?_"

Aragorn was shocked by this. "Because I know Legolas. He wouldn't do that to us. Ever."

"Even if, by some miracle, he _is_ still alive, he would not want you to throw away your life. Not like this."

"_What the hell do you know?_" snapped Aragorn. "You barely knew him!"

Théoden was affronted by the outburst, but put it down to anger and sadness at the loss of his friend.

"I know enough that he would rather die than allow you to ride into Mordor alone."

"It looks to me as though those will be his options."

"Be that as it may, do not go to your death for a futile attempt at saving his life. Please. For all our sakes."

Aragorn shook his head, before slowly dismounting, as though some other will resisted him.

"He _is_ dead." Aragorn's voice broke. "I don't want to believe it, but I know in my heart... He's dead."

* * *

><p><em>One Month Later...<em>

It is said that the sight of a familiar face can help boost one's hope. However, the sight of _this_ familiar face did not make Legolas feel any more hopeful. It was the face of Eglorz, the orc who Legolas had knocked out on his first day here.

His first day here... It seemed like a lifetime ago that he had arrived here, and the elf had no way of telling, lying chained to this stone slab, that it wasn't. Dungeon Zero was possibly the most time-forsaken place in the whole of Arda. A day, a month, a year, a millennium, it didn't matter. The elf was as good as dead.

They had broken his body, his spirit, his defiance, his hope... Everything that made the elf who he was, the orcs had shattered into a thousand tiny pieces. The only thing they hadn't broken was his silence. And if Eglorz was here, that could only mean that the orc was back with a vengeance.

So it came as no surprise to him when Eglorz started grinning gleefully.

What _did _come as a surprise to him was when Sauron followed him into the room, and asked everyone (save, rather irritatingly, Eglorz) to leave the room. Once they had left, Sauron waved his hand at Eglorz, and the orc vanished from view.

Sauron looked down at the pitifully weak elf. They had decided that while Legolas' immortality did not stretch to saving him if he was stabbed in the heart, it would save him from dying if they starved him. Irritatingly, they were right.

"You know..." Sauron toyed with the elf. "The most intriguing thing happened this morning. Two small children were brought to me, and my captain said that they were discovered with a skulking creature in the pass of Cirith Ungol."

Legolas repressed a shudder at the name. He had become something of an expert at repressing shudders during his time underground. "And due to the fact that you're down here, I'm guessing that this has something to do with me." His voice was hoarse, due to the lack of talking and excess of attempts to repress cries of pain.

"Well yes, actually, it does. Because these children claimed, given a little persuasion, that they were not children, but _hobbits_."

Legolas tried to keep his face impassive, and for the most part, succeeded.

"And these _hobbits_ had names. One, who was blonde and fat, was called Samwise Gamgee, and the other, who seemed to be the brains of the two, was called Frodo Baggins."

Legolas' face betrayed him this time, and despair was etched in every line of his face.

"These names mean something to you." It wasn't a question.

Legolas didn't answer immediately. They had tried to trick him once before. The possibility that Sauron had found out these names through other methods than the ones he was describing was unlikely, but not _altogether_ impossible.

"Oh... you think I'm going to tell you what they mean?" The elf laughed grimly, humourlessly.

"Well, my captain also found something on Brains." It was Sauron's turn to laugh grimly. "He found _this._"

Sauron removed from somewhere outside Legolas' field of vision the chain that Frodo had always worn around his neck, and, swinging from it, was the Ring.

Legolas felt his body collapse in despair. Every muscle in his body relaxed, and he couldn't stop tears forming in his eyes. Despite everything, his attempts to spare the hobbits had been useless, and no doubt Sauron would have killed them by now. He was only dimly aware that Sauron was still speaking.

"...but the tongues of _hobbits _seem to be much easier to loosen than yours, and they told me of a company. A company of nine. They said there were originally not two, but _four_ hobbits, the other two went by the names of Meriadoc Brandybuck, and Peregrin Took. Then there was their guide, who they said was lost in Moria, whose name was Gandalf. They also claimed to travel with two men. One, Boromir of Gondor, who they had learnt to be dead, and another, whose only name they knew was Strider. They also had travelled with a dwarf and an elf. The dwarf was called Gimli, and this is the interesting part: They said that the elf went by the name Legolas."

Legolas glared at Sauron. "Took you _this long_ to work it out, did it?"

"You're going to regret that comment in a second. Because I have been separated from this ring for some time, and I need some time to reacquaint myself with it." Sauron broke the ring from the chain and slid it onto his finger. "And- oh, how lucky. I have a prisoner in Dungeon Zero who I can practise on!"

With that, Sauron pointed his finger at Legolas, and the elf suddenly felt himself be hit by an unendurable amount of pain. His body felt like it was on fire. Only fire was freezing compared to the heat of this burning agony that seized every fibre of his body. All his muscles tensed, and he screamed out in pain. His screams were so loud that they drowned out Eglorz's cackle. Sweat dripped down his face, as he desperately tried to repel the extraordinary amount of pain that was coursing through his body.

Then, as abruptly as it started, it stopped. Legolas was left there, panting, lying on the table.

"Please..." the elf begged as Sauron raised his hand again. "No..."

Sauron laughed. "That was just a warm-up."

The Dark Lord entertained his sadistic... well, not so much a streak as a very wide chasm by pointing his finger at the elf again. Sauron hadn't been lying – the previous attack had been a warm-up by comparison to this. The sensation was, in essence, exactly the same, but the pain seemed to be magnified a thousandfold and Legolas' screams died in his throat as he tried so hard to shake the pain off.

After what felt like years, but was actually a few minutes, the pain stopped. Tears were flowing down his face, but the elf knew it was only a small respite in the pain.

"I think our friend has had enough for today." Sauron's words surprised Legolas, and the elf couldn't immediately make sense of what he was saying. However, he understood when Eglorz undid the chains around his wrists and ankles that they were taking him back to the black cell. He didn't fight them, he just didn't have the strength left to fight them anymore. As the door opened, light reflected off two barely conscious figures lying there. Before he could make any more sense of this, however, he was pushed forward onto his face, and the door shut, plunging them into complete darkness.

* * *

><p>Sam started as he heard the door open, and shielded his eyes as light streamed into the cell. However, the light was soon extinguished as a tall figure was pushed forwards, his fall waking Frodo, and the door was shut.<p>

"Hello?" Sam called out.

"Sam?" Two voices spoke simultaneously. One, Sam recognised as Frodo's, the other was hoarse and barely more than a whisper. Sam could only assume it came from the figure on the floor.

"Mr Frodo?" Sam asked.

"Yes Sam, I'm here. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, Mr Frodo. Are _you_ all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine, I'm fine!"

"Glad to hear that you're both ok," said the hoarse voice, which was becoming less hoarse by the minute. Sam noticed that it had something of an elvish lilt. He also noticed that, despite the fact that its owner was making no sound, the voice was moving around the walls.

"Frodo, do you still have the light that the Lady Galadriel gave to you?" asked Sam.

"No," Frodo said sadly. "I lost it."

"Well," said the voice." "Luckily that light is not the only one of that nature."

There was a soft rustling, and the owner of the voice said a few beautiful yet meaningless (at least to Sam's ears) words, and a bright white light illuminated the cell. After the few seconds that it took for their eyes to adjust to the light, Sam recognised the owner of the voice.

"Legolas!"

However, Legolas looked different. The elf looked drawn, thin and tired, and had lost some of his grace.

"It's good to see you, Sam."

"You look terrible!" Sam exclaimed, surprised by the elf's appearance.

"You don't exactly look like the Lady Galadriel either, you know."

"Yes, well, I'm not an elf." Sam folded his arms.

"Legolas..." Frodo said tentatively.

"Yes?"

"They took... They took the Ring."

Legolas sighed. "I know."

"I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."

"Don't be. It wasn't your fault."

"But I- But I _failed_!" Frodo wailed in anguish.

"_Frodo!_" snapped Legolas. Frodo fell silent in shock. "Nobody blames you. It was nigh on hopeless when we started, and it wasn't your fault that the quest failed. What we need to do is find a way out of this _bloody_ cell!" Legolas kicked the wall.

Almost in answer to that comment, the door opened again. As orange light filled the cell from the doorway, Legolas extinguished the small white light. Sauron stood there, looking at the three occupants of the cell.

"You two," Sauron said, pointing to the hobbits. "Come with-"

"What for?" Legolas interrupted. "You've got your prize, why can't you let them go?"

"Come now, Elfie-Boy," To say that Legolas looked indignant at Sauron's nickname for him would be insulting to the expression on the elf's face. "Let me ask you a question: Why would I want to do that?"

"You might show a little bit of mercy!" Legolas snarled, glaring at Sauron.

"Mercy?" Sauron backed out of the cell.

"Yes! Show a bit of mercy for once in your life," Legolas started walking towards the door. Sauron backed away, and nodded to one of the orcs to shut the heavy door. "Let them go, _LET THEM GO!_"

The elf ran, but didn't reach the door in time and leant panting against the door. Legolas felt shame wash over him. He had failed the hobbits, failed the Fellowship, failed Middle Earth...

"All right then," Sauron's voice came through the door. "I'll give you your freedom. But you'll have to dance for it!"


	5. Chapter Five: Cage

Chapter Five – Cage

Legolas was led, wearing nothing but a linen shirt, trousers and his boots, into what the orcs called the arena. In reality, it was a round, very tall cage, the top of which escaped his sight, made of a very strong black metal, the name of which was unknown to all save Sauron. There was another entrance, directly opposite the entrance from which he had come in. There was a large amount of space between the walls of the cage and the walls, which, like most of the rest of the Dark Tower, had rough balconies cut into them. Although the balconies were small, they were stacked one on top of the other, and shielded from the rest of the room by bars made of the same metal that the bars of the cage were made of. There was a somewhat larger balcony behind the other entrance, where stood a large throne. Legolas hated Sauron's guts, but had to admire the sheer number of thrones that filled Mordor. The elf could only assume that Sauron had a fetish for very ornate chairs.

Also seated on the large balcony, were Frodo and Sam. They were each chained to the wall, preparing to watch the game. Filling all of the smaller balconies were orcs, who were jeering and screaming loudly. Legolas was struggling not to be deafened by them.

Suddenly Sauron stood, and all the orcs fell silent. "The rules of this game are very simple. There are four rounds in the game, each round harder than the last. You are armed only as you are now to start, but you can do whatever you want once the fighting starts. The winner of each round is the last creature surviving. Win all four rounds, and you win not only your own, but your friends' freedom. Fail at any round, you die, and they die."

Legolas nodded, showing that he understood.

"Let the games... _begin!_"

The two massive gates opened, and something strolled into the cage. Something that had haunted his nightmares for several months. A black creature with a mane of fire, ten metres tall, armoured in red-hot steel. Its eyes were red, and its tongue was one of flame. In one hand it held a whip of fire, in the other, a flaming sword. Clearly _it_ had a fetish for fiery things.

A balrog was in the cage.

Legolas froze in shock, staring up at this seemingly undefeatable foe. This was the creature that had nearly killed Gandalf, and one of them would kill him too. The orcs were jeering at his fear-induced immobilisation. He only just registered in time that the creature was bringing its sword down upon him, and spun out of the way. The creature, unperturbed, made a similar move again, and Legolas just moved out of the way in time. The balrog swung its whip, and caught Legolas' ankles, bringing him crashing to the ground. He rolled out of the way as the balrog tried to stab him in the chest. He got to his feet and ran between the creature's legs, and, as the balrog spun around, it caught its whip on one of the bars of the cage. The elf saw a perfect opportunity to get one up on his opponent.

He ran forwards and grabbed onto the whip, the flames burning his hand. He ran along the whip as the balrog pulled it taut, using it to climb onto the balrog. With a fluid motion, he somehow managed to climb atop the balrog's head. The elf had on him something that he had long kept secret, for he knew that he should only reveal it in the most dire need. That need was now upon him.

Pulling out two carefully concealed knives from his boots, he drove one down into the balrog's head, only to find the blade touch the skull, but not do much more damage than scratch it. Trying a different tactic, he pulled the mithril blade out of the sinew, and jumped down the balrog's back, driving the other knife into the creature's flesh so as to slow the fall. This time he had more success – the balrog gave a roar of pain as the knife sliced its way through flesh and bone, and dropped the whip and the sword. The elf let go of the handle provided by the knife that now stuck out of the creature's back, ran around to where the balrog's sword lay by its whip, and picked up both weapons. Legolas noted that the sword seemed to shrink to a respectable size for its new owner, but lost none of its capability. Legolas swung the sword high, slashing the beast's throat. The balrog was dead before it hit the floor.

As the elf recovered his knife, which was still stuck in the balrog's back and stowed both knives back in his boots, Legolas dimly heard Sauron shout: "Round Two!"

_Round two?_ Legolas thought. _If that was round one out of four, then what comes next?_

He didn't have much time to ponder the mystery, as it was solved before he had a chance. In walked two more balrogs, armoured identically to the one that now lay slain on the floor.

"Makes sense," Legolas muttered quietly to himself. "Round two: two balrogs."

However Legolas felt that he was at less of a disadvantage this round, as he was armed in a very similar fashion. He forced the balrogs to back up, cracking the whip against the ground. It was only now that he noticed the change in the screams of the orcs. They seemed to be shouting... _with_ him...

Suddenly, one of the balrogs was enraged enough to run towards him. Legolas swung the sword again, this time slicing through the lower abdomen. _Completely_ through the lower abdomen. The torso of the balrog fell down, and the elf had to move sharply to avoid being crushed under it. The other balrog, scared by what had happened to its companion, started backing up repeatedly. In the space of a few short seconds, their roles had been reversed, and the hunter had become the prey. Legolas decided to go for the good old-fashioned stab to the heart to kill this second creature, and felt some sense of relief that this sword was, while completely impractical for how he usually fought, _very_ good for killing balrogs.

Sauron stood up for a third time, silencing the crowd's cheers. "Round three!"

"Let me guess," said Legolas sarcastically to himself. "_Three_ balrogs?"

He was right on the balrog front, but the number was wrong. Four balrogs entered the cage.

"Oh, now you're just being difficult!" hissed the elf, before employing his favourite curses onto the Dark Lord.

He started with the same method, cracking the whip on the ground, hoping to enrage the balrogs further than the screams of the orcs and the sight of three dead balrogs lying on the floor could. Eventually, it worked. One of the balrogs completely lost its temper and charged at him. Legolas threw himself out of the way of the charge, before bringing the sword down onto the back of its neck, thus beheading it. This enraged the other three into action. One was easily taken out by the elf copying the manoeuvre of the first balrog, swinging the whip and coiling it around the creature's legs and bringing it down. While down, he stabbed it in the throat before it could move. He then turned and launched the sword at the second balrog's eye, and, unsurprisingly, given the elf's extraordinary accuracy, the sword found its mark, plunging deep into the balrog's brain, killing it instantaneously.

But this move cost him dearly. The final balrog took a swipe at the elf, and, unlike the six balrogs before him, this swipe struck true, slashing his forearm and causing Legolas to collide very painfully with the side of the cage. But Legolas was faster on his feet than the balrogs before him, and had a very good sense of being able to block out pain when his life was in danger. He swung the whip a final time, and the whip coiled around the balrog's neck, unable to slide off. With an extraordinary amount of effort, the elf pulled hard on the flaming rope, until the balrog finally went limp, collapsing after being strangled to death.

_Oh good,_ Legolas thought. _Round four. I wonder what this will be. Seven balrogs? Nine point three one eight recurring balrogs? Twenty-four pi balrogs?_

But the shout that he had reached this final round never came, and the elf was left confused. At least, until the door opened a final time.

Round four – face Sauron in a one-on-one battle.

Sauron was armed with a sword (_surprise surprise_) and a mace. The elf pulled out his knives again, feeling that this was a good time to use them. Their eyes locked onto one another's, and Legolas knew that Sauron wasn't going to give him a fair fight. _Well,_ _as my father used to say, that's not much incentive for me to fight fairly either._

Sauron swung his sword towards Legolas' flank, and in a very simple move, he caught the sword in between his knives. Sauron started circling the elf, which Legolas had no intention of allowing him to do. Never taking his eyes off the Dark Lord, Legolas started copying him. They moved almost as if in a grotesque dance, never breaking the distance in between them.

"What's the matter, Legolas?" goaded Sauron. "Can't figure out what to do next?"

_Don't rise_, he thought determinedly. _Don't rise to it!_

"Well why are you so silent?" Sauron wasn't going to let him off that easily. "Are you scared?"

Legolas continued to glare at Sauron, not saying a word.

"Or is it because you're angry?"

_I'd have thought that would have been obvious,_ but Legolas still kept his mouth shut.

"Angry that your friends didn't help you?"

_What?_

"Your best friend, who you saved as a child, chose not to return the favour."

_How does he know about that? And just because Aragorn didn't come to storm the Dark Tower doesn't mean that he doesn't care about me..._

"He left you out here to _die!_"

"No!" Legolas snapped. "He wouldn't have don't so willingly!"

"_Willingly!_" laughed Sauron derisively. "What was stopping him?"

"I... I..."

_But I've been asking myself that lately, haven't I?_

"Is it because the last things you said to him upset him?"

"No... He would have forgiven me for that..."

_Would he?_

Sam, Frodo, and unfortunately Sauron noticed the elf's facade begin to crumble.

"You didn't think to apologise, did you?"

_No... I didn't..._

"You couldn't swallow your pride, could you?"

_No..._

"Your own pride drove him away and left you to die. And he didn't forgive you. He _never_ forgave you!"

"NO!"

Legolas' facade had not so much _broken_ as been turned into dust. He wasn't a warrior any more, he wasn't the Prince of Mirkwood, he was a terrified child with his fears that he had been betrayed by his best friend laid bare for the world to see. He launched himself at Sauron and thrust both knives into his helmet. Sauron gave an agonised cry as the blades broke through the metal, but he didn't die. Instead he threw the elf back against the bars using the power of the Ring, which caused his skull to crack. Nauseous, he fought to keep himself from passing out. But that was all he had the strength to do, and was powerless as Sauron walked over to him.

"It's over." Sauron smirked as he looked down at the barely conscious elf. "And your friend never forgave you."

With that, Sauron plunged the sword into Legolas' chest, and the darkness took him.


	6. Chapter Six: Pit

Chapter Six – Pit

Legolas' head was pounding. He couldn't tell where he was, if he was alive or dead, or how much time had passed since his last conscious thought.

The darkness was, if possible, even more dense than that of the cell. The floor was not stone, but more uneven than most of the rest of Mordor. He felt the ground, and realised that he didn't know what it was made of. The stench was unbelievable, and felt that he needed to see where he was.

The elf frisked himself desperately, looking for his light. Unfortunately, he couldn't find it, and was left to blunder around in the dark for something to guide his way. After a few steps, he tripped on the uneven floor and hit his head against a stone wall. The good news was that several large fragments fell off the rough wall. The bad news was that these fragments hit him on the head.

Ok, so he had two loose stones that could be struck together to make a spark. All he needed was something to light...

He tore off the sleeve of the shirt that had been ripped by the seventh balrog. He wrapped the end around his wrist, and struck the two stones together so that sparks ignited the fabric. Once his eyes had adjusted to the light, he saw what the floor was made of, and retched.

Bodies.

He could only see a small amount of the room, but didn't need to exercise his brain to realise that this was where Sauron stored all his dead foes. There were thousands upon thousands dead here. Legolas tried so hard not to be sick, and couldn't stop the tears flowing down his face. This was messed up...

He only just noticed a torch sticking out of one of the dead people's pockets before the fire went out. It wasn't very big, but it was safer than igniting a strip of fabric wrapped around his arm. He retrieved it and ignited it very quickly, using the embers of what had been his sleeve. It was only as it was lit did he realise who the previous owner had been, and choked back more tears.

Haldir of Lothlórien was dead. And lying just a few feet from him were the bodies of Frodo and Sam. Legolas went over to see them. They had both had their throats slit, and the elf didn't need to check their wrists to tell that they were dead, but he did so anyway, clinging vainly onto the hope that they might have survived. Sadly, that hope was extinguished very quickly. Muttering a short lament for them, he felt grief and shame crash over him.

He had failed them. If he hadn't risen to the bait that Sauron was so clearly offering him, they might have survived. Middle Earth might have been saved, and Haldir might have been spared. He couldn't prevent himself blaming his actions for all that was wrong with the world at the moment. Try as he might, he couldn't stop crying, both for the fallen hobbits and for the elf who had offered them compassion and kindness.

However, the elf knew that he had to get out, and warn the rest of the world that Sauron had the Ring. He looked around the room for the door.

Only there wasn't one.

It was only as he looked up that he noticed, two metres above his head, a wooden trapdoor. He was less than thrilled by this, as he had no means of getting up there. However, he noticed that he had hitherto overlooked the fact that Haldir, while dead, was also fully armed. The elf realised that the quiver was full, and (thankfully) the bow wasn't broken. Now all he had to do was find some rope.

The first place he looked was in Sam's pack. He felt terrible, picking over his friends' corpses like a thief in the night, but he also couldn't think of what else to do. Thankfully, the hobbit still had some in his pocket. Legolas could only assume that while Sauron was unafraid of pretty much anything, his servants were still afraid of elvish objects. Putting the torch between his teeth, he fired an arrow with the rope tied to the end at the trapdoor. It latched onto the doorframe and the elf put the bow back in Haldir's quiver. Then he started to climb the rope. He reached the top and pushed at the door, but that stayed firmly shut.

_Of course. It _would_ happen to be locked, wouldn't it?_

The elf looked at the torch he still had between his teeth, and then back at the trapdoor. He suddenly knew how to get out.

Using one hand, he ignited the trapdoor, and when it had burnt to a crisp, he pushed at it. It broke, showering Legolas with charcoal. He pulled himself out of the pit, and as he climbed out, he marvelled at how the trapdoor was unguarded, until he heard the voices of orcs. He recognised one of them as Eglorz's, but couldn't make out the second one.

"...So anyway, seeing as how we've got a free shift-" Eglorz was saying, before he was interrupted by the second voice.

"We haven't, Eglorz. We've got to guard the death pit."

"Yeah, but there's no point. We've got no live in there."

Suddenly Legolas realised two things. One: this was the changeover of the guards. _That's unusually convenient._

Two: the pit was not just a storage facility. It was also used for murder.

Just the thought of that made him sick. He ducked out of sight as the two orcs turned the corner. They both started at the sight of the charred remains of the trapdoor.

"If either of you raise the alarm, it will be the last thing you ever do."

The elf got to his feet and stared defiantly at the orcs as the stared, terrified, at the elf.

"No point guarding it, huh?" said the nameless orc. Eglorz glared at him.

Legolas silenced them with a look. "Now you two are going to play really nicely and tie yourselves up silently and jump down into that hole or else I will kill you."

"How?" Eglorz said furiously. "You have no weapon!"

Legolas glared at the orc and walked so his face was inches from Eglorz's. Without a word, he grabbed the orc's face and twisted it in a well-practised manoeuvre so that its neck broke.

"Like that," the elf said as Eglorz's body fell to the floor.

The nameless orc took a step back in fright, put his foot through the trapdoor and fell into the hole. Legolas unattached the rope and wound it around his wrist.

"Well you weren't tied up, but I guess it'll do." Legolas pulled free the dead orc's sword and walked away from the pit.

* * *

><p>As Legolas walked of the tower, he left a merciless trail of destruction, including several stabbed orcs, dead men who had succumbed to the power of evil and more often than not, corridors that had been blown apart by fire and explosions. The merciless trail was partly out of need, but also partly out of vengeance. They had tormented him, killed his friends, thrown him in a cage with a balrog with no intentional way of defending himself, before tossing gis body into a pit. They had changed his mind, making him more likely to explode than a ticking time-bomb. They had made him this way. So really, it was all their fault that Legolas killed them. Or at least, that was the way the elf could live with himself.<p>

Once outside the tower, things became a lot easier. He didn't know the way out of Mordor, but he had a means of finding out.

Legend had it that there was a horse who had roamed Arda since its creation. This horse was impossibly fast, and so white that some who looked upon her were blinded. This horse was called the ghost-horse, or in Sindarin, Demetreos. Most said that this horse didn't exist, but some millennia ago, Legolas had encountered this horse in Mirkwood. The horse had been very suspicious of the young elf, but Legolas had earned her trust over the course of the year, and learnt that the legends regarding her were true. Now the horse would only answer to his whistle, and only permit Legolas to ride her, unless there were very special circumstances. This horse knew every pass there was on the face of Middle Earth, and would find Legolas a safe passage out of Mordor. So Legolas whistled.

Unfortunately, the horse wasn't the only thing attracted by the whistle. An orc patrol heard him and came upon him. As one of them tried to goad him, the elf noticed a speck of white in the distance, getting larger by the second.

"I wouldn't be so cocky if I were you." Legolas' tone was conversational.

"_Cocky!_" hissed the orc. "You're one to talk about _cocky!_"

"Yes, but you see, I, unlike you, have a reason to be cocky."

"And what would that be?"

"That."

The white horse jumped over the line of orcs, and Legolas mounted her quickly.

"Nice knowing you!" he called, as Demetreos rode away.

The horse shot across the black desert towards the mountains. Legolas realised that she was bearing him to Ephel Dúath, or the Mountains of Shadow. There was a little known pass over these mountains that not even Sauron knew of. This pass would later become known as the Krebekan Pass. The elf looked around and saw that he was being pursued by the Nazgûl's new flying steeds, and urged Demetreos to run faster. They made it to the pass, but as they crossed, the stones started falling, and the ground gave way under the horse's feet. Soon the stones turned into a full-scale avalanche, and the elf was only saved by the fact that Demetreos had clearly been in situations like this one many times before, and jumped on the rocks as they fell. Within a few minutes, they had crossed the pass safely.

_If I can just reach the Anduin before Sauron notices I'm gone, I might be safe._

He had no sooner thought this than an orcish arrow pierced his shoulder. He tried to ignore it, but couldn't block out the pain as blood seeped down his back. He had survived an attack by seven balrogs, he had survived Sauron's sword. It seemed ludicrous that after that, he would die due to an orc's arrow. He couldn't die, not now. Not now he was so close to freedom.

As Demetreos turned to run along the Anduin, the sun broke over the hills. Legolas, though, couldn't enjoy the sight, as he fought constantly against the gathering darkness on the edges of his mind. With every step, it became harder and harder to stay awake. Eventually, he couldn't fight any longer, and slid off Demetreos as darkness finally took him.

* * *

><p><em>I'm not a fan of author's notes, but this chapter does require a bit of suspension of disbelief. I know that a lot of factors were VERY convenient, but hey, that's the beauty of stories.<em>


	7. Chapter Seven: Warning

Chapter Seven – Warning

_A week later..._

Theoden, Aragorn, Gimli, Gandalf, Merry and Pippin, and some twenty soldiers were riding back from Isengard for the final time, having finally convinced themselves that, despite Saruman's initial change in attitude, he had finally been defeated.

Aragorn, despite the fact that it had been over a month since he had last seen Legolas, was still upset about it. The truth was, he couldn't shake off the fear that he had been wrong. There were so many unanswered questions that filled his mind. _Why Legolas, of all people? Had he simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time? What had become of him? Was he dead, or an orc? And if he had become an orc, how long did he suffer for? What if he was neither? What if he survived? What if he's still alive? What if he's suffering now? What if he escaped?_

These questions tormented his nightmares just as much as his waking moments, as he struggled to come to terms with Legolas' fate. He thought back to when he had found the hobbits. That had been the hardest time, little more than a week after his capture.

"_So where's Legolas?" Pippin asked._

_Gimli looked at Aragorn, and saw that his eyes were shut, trying desperately to stop the tears from forming in his eyes._

"_Legolas..." Gimli started, but couldn't finish. While his grief was nowhere near Aragorn's, it was nevertheless strong, and he found it hard to speak of his friend._

"_Legolas was taken from Helm's Deep to Mordor by the Nazg__û__l," Aragorn abruptly blurted out._

_Both of the hobbits looked disbelievingly from Aragorn to Gimli. The dwarf confirmed this with the slightest of nods._

"_Strider..." asked Merry uncertainly. "Are... Are you ok?"_

_Gimli gestured that they come over, leaving Aragorn where he was._

"_Aragorn feels guilty because he couldn't help him. Legolas has been friends with him for a long time, and apparently saved his life a long time ago. Aragorn feels bad because he owes a debt to Legolas that could not be honoured."_

_Pippin chose to remain silent in shock, while Merry employed his choicest swears._

"_That isn't all. Aragorn still can't forgive himself because the last things he said to Legolas were angry, and they never got the chance to make it up to each other. He's scared that Legolas never forgave him."_

"_So... he's dead then?"_

"_Yes, he's dead." Aragorn's abrupt interjection caused the three of them to jump._

"_Or worse." Gimli looked darkly at the floor._

"_No, forget it. Legolas would rather die than... than..."_

_The final words died in his throat, leaving Merry and Pippin confused._

Aragorn was so consumed in his thoughts that he barely noticed one of the two scouts come back, drenched in blood, horse-less, and looking terrified. Indeed he might have completely overlooked it, had Pippin not tightened his grip around his waist, and the mood change drastically in the column.

"What is it?" asked Théoden, alarmed by his scout's appearance.

"I don't know," answered the scout, breathless by his encounter. "But something dark, and beyond our strength."

Aragorn tensed, as he heard Gandalf speak urgently.

"Go! If this is what I fear, then you have to leave. _Now!_"

Aragorn, however, remained stubbornly by his side, ignoring the pleas of the hobbit who was astride his horse. Gandalf rode ahead to where the scout had come from, followed by Aragorn, a reluctant Pippin, and, jogging some way behind them, Gimli.

However none were prepared for what awaited them.

A creature the height of a troll stood there, its glare freezing all those upon whom it fell. A shadow seemed to emanate from it, plunging those who stood too near into total darkness that confined them to their heads. The body of the first scout lay near it, all the life drained out of him.

"Go," Gandalf said to his two very stubborn companions. "Swords will not help here."

"The last time you said something like that, you fell into a very deep chasm!" Gimli grumbled.

"Well it's a good thing that I'm not near a very deep chasm this time, isn't it?" However, neither of his companions moved.

"Face it, lad," Gimli continued. "We aren't going anywhere."

"Gimli, go back! Aragorn!" Gandalf looked indignantly at the ranger. "Make him go back! And then go back yourself!"

"No," said Aragorn smugly. This startled most people, for Aragorn rarely said anything, and one word a day was chatty for him.

While they were arguing, the creature turned towards them, realising that they existed. It started towards them, giving an almighty roar.

"Too late now," Gimli said, triumphant.

The three of them charged, but Pippin, who had slipped down unnoticed from Aragorn's horse, surveyed the battle from a distance. It was not a pretty sight.

As they approached the creature, they seemed to stop. They couldn't see what they were doing, as darkness engulfed their heads. When Aragorn's horse turned wildly, Aragorn himself was looking around desperately, and Pippin saw that his eyes were completely black. Shadowfax was rearing madly, trying to escape the impenetrable darkness that completely blinded him. However, there was something that they hadn't counted on.

A tall figure astride a white horse appeared on top of the hill. Pippin couldn't see the rider's face, but saw that he was clad in very dark blue, with silver armour shining around his torso, arms and legs. His hood was up, that much was plain, but it was only as the horse drew near that Pippin realised that a blue cloth was covering his nose and mouth, so that only his eyes were visible. The rider aimed an arrow at the creature, and his aim struck true. The arrow pierced the throat, but the creature was not dead. The rider then galloped into the fray, and had no such trouble with the darkness. It seemed to Pippin that light was battling shadow as the creature and the rider clashed arms, and light was winning. The rider sliced his elvish sword through the creatures neck, and the creature fell down headless.

At once, Aragorn, Gandalf, Gimli and the horses were freed from their blinding darkness.

"Ta," said Gimli grudgingly.

The rider's gaze fell upon him, looking at him searchingly. His eyes were elven, and seemed to mirror some loss or grief. His gaze then fell upon Aragorn, and then lastly on Gandalf.

"Mithrandir," said the rider. His voice confirmed that he _was_ an elf. "I am a messenger from Lothlórien, and I bear urgent tidings. Frodo Baggins and Samwise Gamgee are dead-"

"NO!" interrupted the other four.

"-And the One ring has been reclaimed by Sauron."

"No... you're..." Pippin muttered, looking disbelievingly at the elf.

"You're lying!" Aragorn snapped.

"Oh please, tell me... Tell me that you're joking... Please!" Gimli looked desperately at the rider.

Gandalf however remained silent. He had suspected this from the moment that he had seen that creature. The only explanation that he could come up with was that it was a new powerful demon conjured up by Sauron.

"I wish that were it," the rider said. "But my home has already fallen to the power of the ring, and all those who resided there at the time have perished, including Lord Celeborn, Lady Galadriel, Prince Legolas of Mirkwood and Arwen Evenstar of Rivendell."

"_No!_" Aragorn, Gimli and Pippin looked at the rider, willing that what he was saying wasn't true.

"You liar!" spat Aragorn. "How can this be true? Why should we believe you when you won't even show us your face!"

At this, the rider's horse reared up, and they saw in his eyes a flash of unstoppable anger. "I won't show you my face because I _can't!_" he hissed."Sauron believes I'm among the dead of Lothlórien, and I'm not going to let him think any differently by travelling with my face revealed! It would put both of us in danger! And as for why you should believe me... Well, you have no choice." With this, he turned and rode towards the creature's corpse, and his voice rose to a shout. "This was but a _scout!_ A spy that was dispensable in Sauron's eyes! And you couldn't even deal with that alone! I could have just left you to die, but I didn't. I _helped_ you! And if you _still_ have trouble believing me," the rider rode back to Aragorn, and his voice dropped, but lost none of its anger. "Go to Lothlórien, and see the state of the Golden Wood. _Then_ come back and tell me that I'm a liar!"

Aragorn and the rider glared furiously at one another, and the other three could see that Aragorn was desperately trying to find a loophole in the elf's story, before grief utterly consumed him.

"What's your name?" Gandalf asked the rider to break the silence.

"My name?" the rider repeated incredulously. "Well, like I said, if you knew who I was, your lives would be in danger. But I suppose if you must call me something, you can call me Saladrion."

"Saladrion?" Gimli looked sceptically at the rider. "Well, I suppose it'll do."

* * *

><p>Merry watched from Éomer's horse as not two, but three horses returned, followed by the small figure of Gimli. As the three riders approached the column, Théoden and Éomer rode up to greet them.<p>

"What was it?" asked Théoden.

"It was a scout," replied Saladrion bitterly.

"And who are you?" Éomer asked him harshly, distrust filling his face.

"He says his name's _Saladrion!_" puffed Gimli, finally catching up with the riders. "But it doesn't take a genius to figure out that he's made that up!"

Merry noticed that Pippin's face was shining with tears. "Pippin?" he asked, worried. "What's wrong?"

Pippin swallowed, trying to stop himself from crying. "Frodo, Sam and Legolas are all dead," he choked. "And Sauron has the Ring."


	8. Chapter Eight: Snap

Chapter Eight – Snap

"Well what are we supposed to do?" Éomer asked furiously. "If the Dark Lord has the Ring, then how are we supposed to hold off its might?"

Night had fallen. They had made camp in a field by the eaves of Fangorn. Éomer was pacing angrily, Théoden was listening to him rant, keeping up a grave silence, Gimli was sitting on a stone next to the fire with the hobbits, Gandalf was facing away from the camp, looking towards Mordor, Saladrion, having been invited by Théoden to tell them what he knew, was sitting on a log by the fire, staring into it, and Aragorn was sitting away from the main group, resting on a tree.

"To that question," Saladrion said quietly. "I have no answer. However it was clear that they were hunting something. Or more accurately, some_one_."

"And who is this some_one?_" asked Gimli impatiently. Clearly he distrusted the new elf, feeling that he needed time before accepting the friendship of an elf who wasn't Legolas.

"I don't know! Do I _look_ omniscient to you?"

"Well you seem to know a lot more than the rest of us!"

"ENOUGH!"

Théoden had lost his temper. "Gimli, stop. Just... Just stop, ok? And you, Saladrion or whatever your name is," Théoden glanced angrily at the elf, who glared just as angrily back. "I asked you here so that you could tell us what you know. But you seem to stir up trouble wherever you go!"

"Excuse me, I don't _stir up trouble_ wherever I go!" The elf looked indignantly at the king, completely ignoring the hand being raised to silence him. "What I was _going_ to say, before I was _rudely interrupted,_" he looked pointedly at Gimli, "was that while Sauron is searching for this mystery person, he will not come to these lands to kill."

"And when he finds this person, what then?" Éomer screamed indignantly. "What happens then? Will he come for us? Will he take our lands and enslave our people? What use is knowing that Sauron is hunting somebody? What good will that do us?"

"Oh for _goodness'_ _sake_, Éomer, _shut up!_" Aragorn spoke at last, and grief coloured every word. "We've lost enough, we don't need to lose any more-"

"_We?_" Saladrion's voice seemed like ice. "_We've _lost enough? You've barely lost anything! You've lost a friend and a lover. Some people have lost so much more! My kinsmen, who shouldn't have even _been _here, have lost lives that they _never_ should have lost! They should be on ships to Valinor, and they only stayed so that they might help _you!_ I've lost my home, my family, even my _identity!_ And your friend, Legolas, never _once_ did you think about how he felt! He was alone, trapped, scared for his friends, scared that his best friend hadn't forgiven him! He questioned that until the very end! He was tormented in ways that you couldn't even _imagine!_ He barely escaped with his life, and told us of what had happened in Mordor, and three days after his recovery, they came and torched Lothlórien to the ground and killed him! And you think to yourself, 'Did Legolas ever forgive _me?_' '_I_ couldn't fulfil my oath, will _I_ be damned?' 'Oh, this is so hard for _me!_" You make me _sick!_ You're selfish, just like every other cold-hearted human I've ever known!"

The camp looked startled by Saladrion's outburst, not least because he managed to say it all in one breath. Staring furiously at Aragorn, as if hoping that he might spontaneously combust, he got to his feet and stormed away from the camp.

* * *

><p>It was midnight, and the whole camp was silent. Aragorn had not handled the elf's outburst well. He had felt so guilty about what he had done, or more accurately, what he had not done, that he looked as though he was about to die, tears streaking down his face, finding ways to blame himself for what had happened. Saladrion hadn't returned, and the camp was totally silent, its occupants asleep.<p>

All, that is, save Pippin. He had been shaken by Saladrion's rant, and he couldn't sleep. His dreams were woven with Frodo and Sam's bodies, burning woods and he couldn't bare it. He sat, huddled in his blanket, trying to keep himself from crying. He felt ashamed at just how bad he felt for _himself_.

He got to his feet, intending to wander away from the camp alone to try and clear his head. He slipped away quietly enough, and wandered around the field for a while, always making sure that he kept the camp in sight. However, he was some way away from the camp when he heard a sob coming from a very large rock. No, that was stupid. Rocks don't sob. There was somebody _behind_ the rock who was sobbing. He had a very shrewd idea who, but checked just in case.

Sure enough, Saladrion was sitting there, his face buried in his hands.

"Saladrion?" Pippin's voice was little more than a whisper, but still the elf jolted in surprise. His head snapped up, and he looked at the hobbit quizzically.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, trying to keep a note of anger out of his voice.

"I couldn't sleep. There's a lot on my mind..."

"Yeah, same here..."

A silence stretched between them.

"So what's wrong?" Pippin asked.

"What's wrong? _Everything's_ wrong! Sauron has the Ring, my best friend thinks I'm dead, my home's been destroyed and Sauron's only had the Ring for two weeks and his enemies are divided! What am I supposed to do?"

"Well who's your best friend."

"I... err... I can't tell you that..."

"Well maybe if you told your best friend that you were alive, then-"

"No. The damage has been done. If I showed myself to him now then he'd never forgive me. And I'd put him and all those around him in danger. I love him too much to do that to him."

"How do you know?"

"Because _I'm_ the one that Sauron is hunting. Sauron believed I was dead and buried in Mordor, but I wasn't. I survived and escaped, although not altogether subtly. I made for Lothlórien, but Sauron followed me, and torched it to the ground. Lady Galadriel bought me just enough time to get out, and I have to warn the world, before Sauron gets too strong."

"Saladrion," Pippin asked, fear in his eyes. "Who are you?"

He reached forward to pull down the cloth covering Saladrion's nose and mouth, but Saladrion beat him to it.

"So you see now, do you?" said Legolas. "You see now that I survived, and now have to lie to everyone, to all my friends, to protect them."


	9. Chapter Nine: Crackle

Chapter Nine – Crackle

"So you were lying? About everything?" Pippin was incredulous. How was it possible that Legolas was alive?

"_No!_" Legolas all but yelled at the hobbit. "I lied about the fact that I was dead. Everything else I said was true."

"How can I believe you?"

"Pippin, why would I lie about that? I _wish_ it wasn't true, but the fact of the matter is that it _is_. And the sooner that we all accept it, to sooner we can move on and find a way to fix it."

"But if you are the one they hunt, then you're putting us in danger by being here."

"I know. I'll leave at first light. I need to go to Rivendell, and warn Elrond of what has befallen Lothlórien, and of the fate of his daughter."

"Why don't you leave now?"

"I know I should, but... It's tiring. All I wanted was a night where somebody else would watch out for me. It's selfish, I know, but you have no idea how welcome that would be."

Pippin noticed that the elf looked exhausted.

"Legolas, when was the last time you slept?"

"Does being knocked unconscious count as sleeping?"

"No."

"Then I can't remember. What is the day today?"

"The twenty-first of April by Shire-reckoning. Why?"

"Twenty-first... hmm... then in answer to your first question, about a month and a half ago."

Pippin's mouth fell open in shock. At this, Legolas laughed.

"Pippin, I do not think you need to worry about the last time I slept. Given the current climate, I think that is the least of our troubles."

"But sleep is so _nice!_"

"True, but it is a luxury I have to forgo at this time. I cannot afford that."

* * *

><p>Legolas sat alone in the darkness, listening to the fire crackle. He had returned to the camp, his mask up, with Pippin, who had now managed to drop off. As he listened to the sound of the fire crackling, he was reminded of the sound of the Golden Wood burning. For the first time, he thought back to what had happened there...<p>

* * *

><p><em>Three days earlier<em>

_...Legolas' eyes opened slowly. He couldn't make sense of what was going on. Sunlight was streaming through the trees, which seemed to be laden with flowers. He recognised at length what these trees were, but he couldn't figure out how he had come to be here. _

"_Am I dreaming?" he asked aloud to nobody in particular._

_At this, there was the sound of laughter. Beautiful laughter that reminded him of running water._

"_No, you're not dreaming, son of Thranduil."_

_Legolas knew that voice. He sat up, and his eyes fell upon Galadriel, and he finally confirmed that he was in Lothlórien._

"_Then how did I come to be here?" he asked slowly._

"_One of my messengers found you on the east banks of the Anduin while he was returning from proposing an alliance with Gondor."_

"_You're allied with Gondor?"_

_Galadriel shook her head. "Denethor does not wish to be allied with an 'elvish sorceress,' and I have no desire to be allied with an idiotic steward."_

_Legolas looked bemusedly at Galadriel, who laughed at his expression._

"_And so how came you to end up by the Anduin? I thought that Sauron had captured and killed you. At least, that's what Sauron's messenger said to your father."_

"_My father thinks I'm dead?"_

"_Yes."_

"_Good. Keep it that way."_

"_Why?"_

"_As I escaped Mordor, one of Sauron's orcs tried to shoot at me, and hit me. If Sauron were to learn of my survival, then anyone who knew would be in danger. Sauron would hunt me, for I know far too much. And the fewer people who know that I live, the smaller the risk of Sauron discovering that."_

"_And what is it that you know?"_

_And so Legolas told her of everything that had happened since his capture at Helm's Deep. He told her of Frodo and Sam's capture, the fight with the balrogs (at which she looked incredulous, but did not doubt him,) he told her of the pit and of Frodo and Sam's deaths, and of Haldir's, of his escape and how he came to arrive at the Anduin. When he finished, Galadriel stared long into his eyes._

"_You are not lying..." she said at length. "I can see that you told the truth, however far-fetched the truth may be. The only question is what to do about it-"_

_Suddenly, there was the sound, far away, of harsh voices._

"_That does not bode well..." Galadriel said._

"_I need to leave. I have brought evil upon your land and I will not be the cause of Lothlórien's destruction."_

_Legolas was in the stables, trying to find Demetreos. However, she was not there._

"_Legolas, you can't reveal yourself to Sauron. Lothlórien was going to fall anyway. Do not throw away your life to save something that cannot be saved!"_

"_Well then, what would you have me do?"_

"_Go to the other cities. Warn them of Sauron's power, and if you can, marshal enough strength to bring down Sauron before he gets too strong. If you can, do it sooner rather than later. Please, if you wish to repay us, then do this."_

"_I can't-"_

"_You must!"_

_Legolas knew he wasn't going to win this._

"_All right. I'll leave."_

"_Ok, then take this." She handed him a bundle of blue clothes. "Travel only by night, and also, take this. Whatever you do, don't let Sauron get his hands on it." She removed the beautiful ring of adamant from her finger. Legolas knew right then that she expected to die._

"_No..." he breathed._

"_Sauron has the Nine, what is left of the Seven, and now the One. Don't let him get the Three as well." She pressed the ring into Legolas' hand. " Do not fail me."_

-:-

_Legolas tried so hard to leave. But things didn't go to plan when the forest burnt all around him. He couldn't bear to run away like a coward. But he had to. Galadriel had given him Nenya, with instructions that Sauron could not possess what Legolas now held tightly in his fist. He suddenly realised that the sound of clashing arms had stopped, and silently crept back to Cerin Amroth. He saw there that Galadriel, Celeborn, the few surviving soldiers, women and children, and Arwen were being held there by the army of Sauron. Their captain looked a lot stronger than the last time Legolas had seen him, and that terrified the elves._

"_So where is he?" asked the Witch-King to Galadriel._

"_Where is who?" she responded haughtily._

"_You know who I mean," snapped the Dark Captain. "Our scouts saw a messenger from Lothlórien coming here carrying the body of the Prince of Mirkwood."_

_Legolas was shocked that Galadriel had lied to him. Although he knew why she had done so._

"_Well that doesn't make any sense," said Celeborn coldly. "Because the Prince of Mirkwood was captured by Sauron and killed, and a messenger from Mordor went to King Thranduil to gloat about it. As I recall, to break the king's heart even further, you told him that you were going to keep and desecrate the corpse, not allowing for a proper funeral to be held."_

"_Silence!" screamed the Witch-King. "You speak like a fool!"_

"_Or has Sauron managed to misplace the body? Who would have thought that the Black Land would be so untidy that-"_

"_DO- NOT- SAY- HIS- NAME!" screamed the Witch-King._

"_-you've managed to lose a very important corpse?" Celeborn continued, paying no attention to the Captain's ire. "I pity you. Mordor must be terrible."_

_The Witch-King turned to the orcs surrounding him. "Send word to the others to make for Rivendell-"_

"_NO!" Arwen screamed. "If his body is not in Mordor, then it would be in Mirkwood, not Imladris!"_

_The Witch-King bent down and looked at Arwen. "Oh yes..." he said softly, as though greeting an old friend. "You're the daughter of Elrond, are you not?"_

"_And so what if I am?"_

"_Very well, we will make for Mirkwood. But Rivendell is on the way, is it not?"_

"_What of the survivors?" growled the orc-cheiftain._

_The captain looked at the orc, and his whole demeanor changed in a way that scared all those around him._

"_What survivors?" His voice was light and innocent on the surface, but with an impossible amount of evil underneath that._

_Legolas didn't stay to see what happened next._

_Not long afterwards, Legolas had gone far enough away from Lórien to glance back. Most of the trees were felled or burnt, and those that remained upright were falling. Before he left that place for the final time, he spoke to her passing spirit._

"_I will not let you down, Galadriel."_

* * *

><p>Legolas opened his eyes. He could not let what had happened to Lothlórien happen to anybody else. Soundlessly, he wrote a note to the company and left it somewhere where they would find it. He then left quietly, without choosing to wake anybody. He wouldn't put these people in danger by associating himself with them. As he turned to leave for Rivendell to warn Elrond of what awaited Imladris, he heard a log fall in the fire, and thought he heard the sound echoed far away in the burning Golden Wood.<p> 


	10. Chapter Ten: Messenger

Chapter Ten – Messenger

Aragorn woke up as the sun broke over the hills. He sat up, only to find a small sheet of paper fall off his chest. He picked it up and read it.

_Aragorn,_

_By the time you read this, I will be very far away. I must go to Imladris to inform Elrond that the forces of Sauron are coming. If you can, try and bring enough strength to wipe out this army. Sauron will only get stronger over time, and so if there is going to be an ultimatum, then it would work in our favour if it was sooner rather than later. Also, I'm sorry for what I said last night. I didn't mean it. You are hardly selfish, and I know that what I said wasn't true. Please forgive me._

_S_

Aragorn eyed the letter, and then looked around. Gimli, Théoden and Éomer were still asleep, Gandalf was... not there... and he had no desire to talk to the guards. The only person who was conscious and in the vicinity was, of all people, Pippin.

"You're up early."

Pippin glanced at him with distain. "And you're as polite as always."

"I was only commenting that you're up before Gimli. That's not exactly hard."

"Once again, you have proven that you are so full of wit that a... that a... err..."

"Would you like a couple of minutes to think about the rest of that insult?"

"Yes please."

"All right then. Well, this was given to me by Saladrion last night." He handed the letter to Pippin. "It's a letter," he pointed out helpfully.

Pippin took a minute to read it. "Well, if Saladrion has gone to Rivendell, then he probably won't be back for a while..."

"No, _really?_" Aragorn's voice was sarcastic.

"But maybe it's for the best. He might have left so as to try to save us."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

Aragorn walked away, and once he was far enough away, Pippin pulled a note out of his pocket, the writing identical to that on Aragorn's note.

_You can't tell anyone. Not even Merry._

* * *

><p>Demetreos reached the border of Rivendell as the sun began to set that night. Legolas marvelled once again at her speed, and started towards the Last Homely House. He only got a few steps however, when a familiar voice spoke to him. The harshness in it, however, was not familiar.<p>

"Drop your weapons!" yelled the voice.

Legolas unsheathed the knives from his back, before dropping it onto the floor. It was then joined by his quiver.

"All right, Glorfindel, you can come out now. I mean you no harm!" Legolas called into the forest.

Glorfindel dropped from the nearest tree and walked towards the weapons lying on the ground.

"Standard bow and arrows used by the Galadhrim," he said to Legolas, as if he didn't know the quality of his own weapons. "Now these," Glorfindel picked up the knives, "are far less standard. Very finely made, even for elven knives, embossed with the coat of arms of Mirkwood. This kind of weapon is only used by Mirkwood's royalty. They're also laced with a poison strong enough to bring down a balrog. That is _very_ strange." Glorfindel tossed the knives onto the pile of weapons that lay at Demetreos' feet. "Who are you, and how did you learn my name merely from listening to my voice?"

"We've met before."

"When? The only person who I know who would have this kind of weaponry is dead. His knives, very like this, were taken back to his father as proof of his death. Now who are you?"

"You can call me Saladrion."

"Oh yes, orcish for _Dead Man_, that's _very_ believable. Let us try something else." Glorfindel fitted an arrow into his bow. "Take off that mask or I will shoot you."

"All right, all right!" Legolas pulled down the mask reluctantly. Glorfindel's jaw dropped.

"Legolas?" he said disbelievingly. "But I thought... Sauron captured and killed you... hang on... _what?_"

Legolas rolled his eyes and pulled his mask back up, glancing around warily for anybody else who might have seen him.

"Take me to Elrond," he said calmly to Glorfindel, "and I will tell you everything."

-:-

"So Lothlórien has fallen?" Elrond asked incredulously once Legolas had finished telling his story. They stood in a small room, its only occupants being Elrond, Legolas and Glorfindel. Legolas had finally agreed to take down his mask, and felt much better for it. The fabric may have been soft, but it did get quite irritating having something around his mouth all the time.

"Yes, Lothlórien has fallen. And they are coming for Imladris next. If you can, make preparations to defend yourselves. I have asked Elessar to try to get Rohan's armies to come to your aid, but I cannot make any promises."

"Very well. How long do you think we have until Sauron's armies arrive?"

"I do not know, not having seen the pace at which they march. But I think they will try to go by the Gap of Rohan, which will give you a week, maybe ten days."

"Glorfindel, can you see to it that all the women and children get out of Rivendell safely?"

"I can try, but I doubt that many will want to go. They will not wish to leave their homes."

"Tell them that it's a matter of life or death."

"Ok."

Glorfindel left, and as he opened the door, he was confronted by the twins, Elladan and Elrohir.

"Do you want something?" Glorfindel asked.

"We wanted to see our father," replied Elrohir calmly. "We wish to tell him that-"

"LEGOLAS!" Elladan yelled, sighting the Prince of Mirkwood through the door. Glorfindel tried vainly to stop the twins from running into the room. Elladan reached him first and pulled him into a tight embrace, which Legolas half-heartedly returned.

"I thought you were dead!" he said excitedly. "I was there when your father was told of your death."

"_I_ wasn't," said Elrohir, "but I'm told that his ire was terrible to behold."

"Oh, terrible doesn't even _begin_ to cover it!" said Elladan. Legolas looked desperately at Elrond, and the pair of them rolled their eyes simultaneously, resigning themselves to hear Elladan's tale. "Sauron's messenger came right up to the palace, and one of the guards showed him in. He tossed your two knives onto the floor in front of the throne, and said: 'With complements of my master.'

"'How did you come by these?' your father said. He was as shocked as us all.

"'Oh, your son gave them to us. Or at least, he did in death.'

"At that, your father got up, and faced the messenger. 'You're a lying _wretch!_" he screamed.

"'Hardly!' laughed the messenger. I've never heard a laugh so cold. It froze all those who heard it right to the bone. 'The knives speak for themselves. Oh, how he cried in death, _begging _for mercy!'

"We all knew he was lying then. Your father was _furious!_ I've never seen anybody who possesses the same ability to get _quite_ as angry as your father, and that was your father's ire completely unleashed. I do not wish to see that again.

"'Do I at least get a _body?_' he yelled. "Do I at least get to see my son again? Do I get to lay my son to rest?"

"The messenger laughed again. 'I'll let you work that out. Although if we're feeling nice, we might send you his head!'

"Your father lost all sense of restraint in that moment. Without a word, he pulled out a knife and stabbed the messenger again and again until the foul creature's blood soaked his hands, the floor and the knife. He asked for the body to be removed, picked up your knives and left. That was the last time I saw him before departing Mirkwood."

"When did you depart?" asked Legolas innocently.

"That evening."

Glorfindel suddenly returned.

"Ah, Glorfindel," said Elrohir. "You _just_ missed Elladan's tale of how Thranduil reacted to Legolas'... err... death."

"I wish I had," muttered Legolas in an undertone. This earnt him a painful stamp on the toe by the younger of the twins, who mocked rage to one of his best friends, not counting family.

"Most of the women and children," said Glorfindel, who looked relieved that he had missed Elladan's spiel, "as I predicted, did _not_ wish to leave. However, given some gentle persuasion, they have started making preparations to leave. Where, though, shall they make for?"

"Mirkwood," said Legolas unflinchingly. "My father will accommodate them, and it is easier to defend Mirkwood than Imladris."

Glorfindel glanced at Elrond, who nodded in confirmation. Glorfindel then bowed respectfully and left.

"There's something else that you should know." Legolas' face was grave. "Arwen was in Lothlórien when it fell. She, too, has perished."

Elrond's face fell at these words. He felt then a shadow of what Thranduil had felt after being told that his son was dead. However, it had been worse for Thranduil, as Legolas was his only child and heir, and Elrond had long ago accepted that Arwen would perish. The abruptness of her death, however, still hurt him greatly, and it was only by the support of Elrohir that Elrond stayed upright.

"I take my leave," muttered Legolas quietly, and left the room, carefully avoiding anyone's eyes.

As he shut the door behind him, he lingered for a moment in time to hear Elrond sob. Legolas pulled up his mask again and left Rivendell reluctantly.


	11. Chapter Eleven: Burn

Chapter Eleven – Burn

_Three days later..._

Elladan was the first to hear the sounds of the approaching army. Even by elvish standards, he had acute hearing. He could hear the sound of orcs, their voices clamouring together to make a cry that made the elf's blood run cold. The orcs were ravenous for blood.

"Here they come..." he murmured to his twin.

Elrohir was tense. While most of Imladris had emptied, the army remained behind to try to weaken the host. Elrond had also remained behind, to defend the city in which he had grown up in, and had ruled over for many a millennia. However, nobody who had chosen to stay had any particular desire to die, and most were only staying out of loyalty to their king.

Glorfindel was one of these. He may have been able to slay a balrog, but the truth was that he was terrified. _How_ could such a small army hold off such a large host of darkness? Each of the Nazgûl was now so much more powerful than they had been before Sauron had reclaimed the Ring. And there were other creatures that had sprung into existence since then, such as the scouts, and old creatures that had long been extinct had been revived, and when these creatures had previously been good, they had now been manipulated towards evil. Dragons were but a small part of the host, and while once upon a time, while Glorfindel was barely a toddler, phoenixes had roamed the skies, singing songs that would rival the songs of elves, their cry was now harsh, and struck fear into the hearts of all things light. So this was what the world had come to.

Elladan, on the other hand, was not entirely aware of _all _the dangers posed by Sauron, but he knew enough to be scared. He was the first to hear the echoing bang that reverberated off the surrounding mountains.

The elves that heard the bang could barely distinguish the initial bang from the crashing of the large metal ball that slammed into the Last Homely House, causing it to collapse. All around the army, the same sounds were echoed, and buildings tumbled to the ground as though they were made of matchsticks. Appalled by what was happening around them, barely any of them realised that Elrond was shouting orders at them. It was only when Elrohir acted on them that the rest of the army broke out of their trances and followed the young captain's example.

"FIRE!" screamed Elrond.

Arrows laced with poison were fired high into the air at the now visible host of orcs that surrounded the city. Unsurprisingly, given the fact that the archers were all elves, all of the arrows found their marks. And, equally unsurprisingly, arrows were fired back. Elladan was smug that _none_ of these arrows found their mark.

However, it didn't take long for the swordsmen – or swordsorcs – to come and attack. They came in waves that were larger than anything that any of the army, including Elrond, had ever faced. Legolas had been right in thinking that Sauron would only get stronger with time. But before anyone could do much more, they heard a terrifying roar rent the air, and a jet of flame split the night sky.

Whether the creature was a dragon or a phoenix was impossible to tell, but whichever it was suddenly soared low and the creature set alight the surrounding wreckage of Imlaris.

"FIRE AT WILL!" screamed Elrohir, beating his father to the command. But Elladan was too scared to obey his brother, and it was only by a swift jab in the back by Glorfindel that he recovered enough to move out of the way as the fiery... thing... swept down again, this time straight through the host. A line of fire now divided the elven host in half. This made it that much easier for the orcs to attack.

_Where was Legolas and the forces of Rohan?_

Elrohir had been separated from his brother and father by the line of flames. For a split second he panicked, but he calmed down for long enough to realise that he was in charge of this side of the host. This wouldn't have proven to be a problem had the fire been directly down the middle, but he realised that most of his people had dived in the direction of Elrond when the fire came down – away from him. This was not good. The orcs, however, had no such difficulty in terms of equal division, and attacked them relentlessly. This was clearly part of a strategy. Sauron had played them for suckers.

"Form ranks!" Elrohir yelled. "Get into lines, with your backs to the fire!"

The elves promptly obeyed the only person who seemed to be talking sense, and organised themselves into a block, just before the next wave of orcs attacked. Elrohir sliced the foremost's throat open, showering himself with black blood, before stabbing the next one. He could hear one coming up behind him and spun his sword around in his hand before stabbing the one behind him in the stomach, before spinning around and beheading it. In doing so, he caught the blade of another orc which was carving a path towards the side of his head, but as he deflected it, he saw something which made his blood go cold.

Across the line of flames, Elladan also saw the orc chieftain attack his father. Elrond did a good job of defending himself until an unsuspected lunge by an orc behind him caught the small of his back. Elrond winced in pain, dropping his guard for a split second. This was enough for the orc chieftain to stab the King's chest, and Elrond fell to the ground. The orcs both walked away, looking for more prey. Elladan rushed over to his father's side, completely ignoring the oncoming attacks of his enemies surrounding him.

"Father! _Father!_" Elladan urgently shook his father back to consciousness.

"Elladan..."

"Yes, Father, I'm right here."

"Elladan... you must... get out of here..."

"I'm not leaving without-"

"Yes... You are..." ordered Elrond. "You must... take this..."

Elrond removed from his finger Vilya, and pressed it into the hand of his youngest son.

"I can't..." murmured Elladan.

"You must... get out..." Elrond said urgently. "Find... Find Legolas... He is known as... as Saladrion amongst... amongst others. Make... Make for Mirkwood... There you must make your... your final stand... Do _not_ reveal Legolas'... Legolas' identity..."

"Father, I'm so sorry..."

"Do not... Do not fail..."

-:-

Elladan looked around urgently. His own horse had been killed by orcs, and he had no hope of getting out of Imladris alive on foot. Long story short, he needed to find a horse.

Whatever strategy that had previously existed amongst the elves had gone completely, and the battle had fallen into disarray. It was a situation of every man – or elf – for himself. Elladan was terrified, partly for his twin brother, and partly for himself. He now had a burden that _had_ to get out of Rivendell. And if that meant leaving his brother here to die, then so be it. _So this is the burden of leadership that my father had to bear,_ thought Elladan. _Decide who gets to live-_ his thoughts were interrupted by another building next to him collapsing, burning, to the ground. -_And who has to die._

Glorfindel had been injured badly. An orc had slashed him across the stomach while is guard was down and while the wound wasnn't fatal, it was extremely ugly and even more painful. Painful enough that he couldn't get up. However, help was at hand. Elladan's face swam into view, and Glorfindel was immensely grateful.

"Help me up..." he gasped. "Please..."

The pleading wasn't necessary for Elladan, as he had every intention of helping the elf, and, more importantly, using the living snowy horse that refused to leave his master's side to get out of Imladris. With a bit of difficulty, Elladan got both himself and Glorfindel up onto the horse and Glorfindel murmured a few words and the horse was off.

Elrohir saw through the flames Glorfindel's horse ride off, his brother sitting astride the beautiful white stallion. He couldn't believe it. His brother was fleeing, actually _fleeing_, while his twin was left behind to die.

"Elladan!" Elrohir screamed.

Elladan turned back, even though he couldn't hear the cry. He searched desperately for his brother. Their eyes locked, and though his brother's screams were drowned out by the roar of the fire, the bangs of the machines that brought down the buildings, and the clashing of arms, the screams of dying elves and orcs alike, and the thudding of Glorfindel's stallion galloping away, he had no difficulty in lip-reading what his brother was screaming. As Glorfindel reached the secure mountain pass, the only chance of safety, a tear slipped down Elladan's face.

* * *

><p>Aragorn was following Saladrion's horse up a mountain pass that only a few, even amongst Rivendell, knew of. He knew of it, and, stating the blindingly obvious, so did Saladrion.<p>

Aragorn still wasn't sure what to make of him. He had met their host coming up the mountains, and apologised repeatedly for his comments four nights ago. Aragorn chose to forgive him, given as how the last time he had held back on forgiveness, the person who he had chosen to forgive had been taken and killed. But he still wasn't sure of whether or not to trust him. However, Saladrion was a bit like Gandalf, and, despite his methods being slightly unconventional (using the term "slightly" rather loosely) he did tend to deliver on his promises. He had returned, Rivendell was under siege, and the army of Rohan had arrived in time.

Or at least, so he thought, until Rivendell came into view.

The city was burning. Everything in it was either on fire or charred to black, and all of it was beyond repair. Aragorn was not alone in the fact that his mouth fell open at the sight of the burning city.

"We're too late..." murmured Saladrion.

"Aye," said a voice, and all of them swam to see Elladan and Glorfindel (albeit the latter was barely conscious) riding up to greet them. "You're too late," said Elladan.

Two of the soldiers helped Glorfindel down and tried to help him. Meanwhile, Elladan looked at Saladrion.

"I cannot thank you enough," he said. "Thanks to you we were able to get the women and children out of the city. Your warning gave us enough time to prepare."

"I hardly think that I need _thanking_," said Saladrion, disgust in his voice. "_I_ did this!" he gestured at the burning city.

"Elladan is right..." gasped Glorfindel, who startled the men who were trying to discern whether or not the elf was conscious. "We owe you our lives..."

"No, you don't. I-"

"_Elrohir!_" screamed Elladan.

Saladrion rushed to the edge of the cliff where Elladan was standing. Elrohir was being led towards the Witch-King, and as they watched, the orcs tried to force him to kneel. Elrohir, however, was having none of it.

"Kneel," the elves heard the Witch-King say lazily.

"Why should I?" Elrohir snarled angrily.

"Funny," said the Witch-King lazily. "That's exactly what the Prince of Mirkwood said when he refused to kneel. But soon he realised that he couldn't win against the might of the Dark Lord and knelt down to the power. Now I suggest you _kneel!_"

And slowly, as though some other will resisted him, Elrohir knelt on the floor.

"Now speaking of the Prince of Mirkwood, where is he?"

"Isn't he supposed to be _dead?_" spat Elrohir. Even though he knew Legolas was alive, he decided that it was best not to say.

"Yes, he is. But his corpse seems to have gone walkabout, and we were wondering if you knew anything about it."

"Well, I don't. And even if I did I wouldn't tell you!"

"You know, I met your sister."

"Arwen?" Elrohir's voice changed completely.

"Yes, Arwen. Very pretty girl. Pity about where she came from. I would have liked to have had some fun with her."

"SHUT UP!" screamed Elrohir, rendering elvish hearing completely useless for hearing it from the mountains. "JUST SHUT UP!"

"No. Now where was I? Oh yes, Arwen. Now she was feisty too. If I'd have had my way..."

But he didn't get much further, as Elrohir rushed towards the captain with every intention of throttling him. The Witch-King whipped out a knife and stabbed the oncoming elf repeatedly until he fell, limp, to the floor.

"_Elrohir!_" screamed Elladan from the mountain pass. "I swear to the Valar, I'll _kill _them!"

He made to run down the mountain, but Saladrion caught his arm and pulled him back. "No!" he yelled furiously. "Elladan, you're no use to anyone dead!"

Elladan allowed the tears to flow freely down his face.

"I'm sorry," Saladrion said to him, pulling him into a tight hug. "But we really have to go."

And so, reluctantly, the host of Rohan, now accompanied by Elladan and Glorfindel, left the mountain pass, leaving Rivendell burning in their wake.


	12. Chapter Twelve: Despair

Chapter Twelve – Despair

Elladan was very quiet during their ride. As the sky became steadily darker, so did his thoughts. At first they started happily, remembering the times he had spent with his brother, in times of peace in Imladris. But soon he started remembering just what had happened to his home, and what had happened to Elrohir. Every time he shut his eyes, his mind relived those images of his brother's final moments, his home burning, as though they were burnt to the insides of his eyelids. He choked back more tears as he thought of the fact that he was never going to see his father, or his twin brother, ever again. He had always done things with Elrohir, but now he was gone, leaving Elladan behind. And Elladan had never felt more alone in his life.

"Are you ok?" asked Glorfindel, who was riding with Elladan. The wounds he had sustained were not poisoned, and despite nearly being gutted, he was healing remarkably fast. As soon as these words had left his mouth, he regretted them instantly.

Elladan didn't seem to hear him.

"Elladan, what's wrong?"

Elladan started. "How did you know something was wrong?"

Glorfindel smiled. "Well, a number of reasons. We've just witnessed our home burn to the ground, your brother and father have both died, it was a fair guess. But I suppose the biggest clue was that you've continued riding, despite the fact that the rest of them stopped to set up camp five minutes ago back there and you failed to notice."

"Oh," said Elladan apologetically. "Sorry..."

"It's all right. Just... Can we go back to them now?"

"Yes, of course. Sorry."

When they arrived back at the camp, they found that everyone was eating quietly. Nobody was saying much, horrified by what they had seen at Rivendell, and the arrival of the only remaining royalty and the injured captain didn't magically spark the camp out of its reverie. They noticed that Legolas – or Saladrion – had set aside two plates for them. Glorfindel happily set about eating the only substantial meal he was likely to get for several days, but Elladan just sat with the plate on his lap.

"Eat," said Legolas. "It'll make you feel better."

Elladan glanced disdainfully at the green eyes that were looking encouragingly at him from under the blue hood. "I highly doubt that food is going to do that."

"I promise you, it will. Now eat."

Elladan didn't reply, but put the plate back onto the floor and got up and walked away. Several soldiers cast him dubious looks as he walked away but he didn't care. Legolas sighed and got up to follow him.

"Can I finish that?" asked Glorfindel before Legolas left, pointing to the half-eaten plate of food that he had left behind.

Legolas glanced at the now-empty plate that lay next to Glorfindel with astonishment, before shaking his head with disbelief and walked away.

"Wait, is that a yes?" Glorfindel called, but to no response. So Glorfindel shrugged and picked up the plate. "Oh well."

Legolas completely ignored Glorfindel. He was more focused on catching up with the disgraced prince. _Rather like me,_ he thought.

"Elladan!" he broke into a run, before catching his mark's arm. "Elladan, I'm so sorry for what has happened to your home, to your family. I can't _imagine_ what you're going through."

"No, you can't!" snapped Elladan, wrenching his arm free. "You can't, because you don't feel it yourself. You just put others through it!"

"I- I'm sorry?" stuttered Legolas.

"You don't know what it feels like to be totally alone in the world, having lost _everything!_"

"_Excuse me?_"

"You let your best friend think you were dead! You don't know what you put him through, and yet you see the hurt in his eyes. And your father... he was devastated by your death, and yet you'll let him go through that. Honestly, I sometimes wonder whether you _like_ putting people through despair-"

"_Like_ it?" yelled Legolas. "_Like_ it?"

Elladan sensed that he had crossed a line.

"Would _you_ like it?" stormed Legolas, and for the first time in his life, Elladan saw Thranduil's legendary ire reflected in his son. "I wish I didn't have to put Aragorn through this, but I have to. I _wish_ I could reveal to the world that I was alive, but I can't, because then everyone who knows will be in danger. I didn't wish to put you or Glorfindel in danger, but I did. And I regret it. I'm totally alone, wherever I go, and I'm met with distrust wherever I go, even by people who I considered best friends. You may not have realised, but this mask doesn't exactly scream 'trustworthy' to people. I just... I just wish..." Legolas seemed to deflate, and the anger slipped from him.

"Are you all right?" asked Elladan.

Tears sprang into Legolas' eyes. "I just wish things could go back to the way that they were. Back to before I was captured, before Frodo and Sam died, before Lothlórien and Rivendell were destroyed, and before Saladrion existed. I wish that none of this had happened."

Elladan moved to comfort Legolas, but before he could do so, Glorfindel appeared.

"Are you two both ok?" he asked. "Only... you weren't exactly being discreet."

"Oh no," Legolas felt worried that he might have blown his cover. "How much did you hear?"

"Only from 'I'm totally alone.' And don't worry, nobody was listening particularly hard."

Elladan glanced pityingly at Legolas, before walking back to the camp. Glorfindel watched him, and moved to follow him, only stopping when he realised that Legolas wasn't planning to do the same.

"Are you coming?" he asked.

"Yes, just give me a minute alone, I'll come soon."

Glorfindel nodded understandingly. "Alright then."

He left Legolas alone, hurrying after Elladan to explain that somebody, no idea who, had stolen his plate and that plate was now completely empty. Legolas thought about what Elladan had said to him. _He's right,_ he thought. _I'm putting people through so much. Everywhere I go, Sauron follows, leaving a trail of destruction in his wake. I'm responsible for the deaths of so many friends. _I'm_ the selfish one, not Aragorn. This is all my fault._

His thoughts went on like this, eventually coming back to one single thought.

_Life isn't like this._

* * *

><p><em>Four days later...<em>

The army that had left from Rohan finally came upon Mirkwood. Nobody was particularly happy by the sight of it, and everyone was scared of the dark mountain of Dol Guldur that loomed over the forest. Aragorn glanced dubiously at the mountain, noticing at the top the black fortress that cast a shadow across the mountain.

Saladrion, however, was the only person who was not dismayed by the sight that Dol Guldur loomed ominously over them, and led them by paths that none of the others had seen before, steering them clear of the mountain.

"How did you know this was here?" asked Théoden to Saladrion.

"Oh, I was sent many times to King Thranduil's realm to relay messages between my Lady and the Prince." There was a hint of amusement in his voice that nobody missed, but only Elladan, Glorfindel and Pippin understood, knowing the blatant lie.

The journey passed uneventfully, and it was not long before they arrived at the main settlement. Large walls shielded the homes of many elves, and the visitors were met by a line of arrows pointing at them from above.

"Who are you and what do you want?" came a voice from above.

Elladan looked up and recognised Dallan, who was previously a door warden for Thranduil. "Peace, Dallan," he called. "We come bearing urgent tidings, counsel and aid."

"Oh, Elladan," Dallan said, the surprise on his face more blatant than if it were carved into stone. "I didn't see you. Since when did _you_ travel with men?"

"Since when did _you_ put up walls around the city?"

"Since the death of the prince. You were there when we made the plans."

"No, I wasn't. I'd left by then. Didn't you notice?"

In answer to that, another voice, female this time, clearly audible from the top of the wall, said: "Elladan's _left?_"

Elladan looked surprised, but Dallan looked exasperated, and excused himself apologetically. Elladan turned around to face the others. Gandalf and Glorfindel, who had his own horse now, looked very amused and struggled to keep their faces straight. This was more than could be said for Legolas and Aragorn, who looked at Elladan for a split second before simultaneously bursting into laughter.

"It's really not that funny," said Elladan crossly, bemused by his friends' reactions.

Glorfindel tilted his head to either side, as though weighing up two sides of an argument in his head, before saying: "Yes it is," which triggered the whole army to start laughing.

Elladan tutted. "Grow up, all of you," he snapped, before turning back to Dallan and his twin sister, Anna, both of whom looked as confused by the entire army struggling to stay upright on their horses as they laughed.

"What in the name of the Valar are they all laughing at?" asked Anna, shaking her head at the sight.

"No idea," said Elladan, glancing furtively at the army, which showed no sign of calming down.

"Right, well," Dallan recovered himself a bit. "I trust you, and this... err... eccentric army, so would you like to come in?"

"Please."

There were steps built on the inside of the wall, but Dallan and Anna ignored them, jumping down the ten-foot drop from the top of the wall to the floor with apparent ease. With less ease, the pair drew back to heavy bolts, the noise of which startled the army into silence. The vast gates swung inwards, revealing a huge city. There were houses built in trees as well as on the ground, mostly out of wood, and a stream ran through the middle of the city. The ground was lush green grass, dotted with flowers of many colours, and the stream stemmed from a waterfall down the side of a cliff directly opposite the city's gates. Upon the side of this cliff were two doors which were guarded by soldiers in sparkling armour, and a winding road was set into the cliff up to them. But however beautiful the city of Mirkwood was superficially, the place seemed depressing. Very few civilians were on the streets, and those who were wore black clothes and gloomy expressions. The place was mostly silent but for the wind and the stream. As Dallan and Anna led them up the path towards the doors, Gimli looked around the place.

"Why is everyone so sad?" he asked.

Dallan remained silent, but Anna asked Elladan in the Common Tongue: "Enlighten me. Why are we allowing a dwarf into our home? Why do we trust him?"

Aragorn realised the instant Anna was using the Common Tongue that she was trying to provoke a fight with Gimli, so as to have an excuse to attack him. Clearly she had prejudices that she would rather not lay aside. "Anna," he said. "Legolas travelled with Gimli for many months and trusted him with his life. Gimli also won the favour of the Lady Galadriel and the Lord Celeborn."

"Really?" said Anna incredulously. "I find that hard to believe."

"Well it's true," grumbled Gimli. "So I will reiterate: Why is everyone so sad?"

"They are in mourning," answered Dallan. "They mourn the death of the Prince."

"Oh," said Gimli, and at once he became gloomy. "Was Legolas popular?"

"It's _Prince_ Legolas to you, dwarf!" snapped Anna. She had not been swayed by Aragorn's argument.

"Anna, calm down," Dallan said to his sister in Sindarin. "And yes, the Prince was very popular. He was kind and where the King was angry, the Prince was patient. He had an extraordinary talent for calming the King down, something which he failed to pass on to anyone. He held a large amount of influence over the King, which he used for the good of all his subjects. He was wise, and tried many times to heal the rift which had grown between us and your people. Unfortunately, diplomacy can only get you so far when your King isn't willing to support the idea, and that idea failed. He was a formidable warrior, and a great captain. He was fair, and on the rare occasion that he was wrong, he would say that he was, unlike his father, who would repeatedly try to shift the blame, usually onto the Prince himself. He loved everything about the land – the trees, the grass, the water, everything, and he would always listen to his subjects, no matter what they had to say. He would have made a great ruler."

Legolas was amused by this description of himself, and struggled to keep himself from laughing again. This was helped by Glorfindel elbowing him hard in the ribs. However, a few minutes later they arrived at the palace and his amusement vanished as he dismounted. His limbs felt stiff and sore, which was unusual. He usually never felt stiff after riding, but he ignored it in the hope that it would go away. The guards opened the doors, allowing the travellers into the palace.

As they walked in, they marvelled at the grandeur of the place. Polished wooden panels lined the walls, and a huge rose window with the crest of Mirkwood in the centre allowed a large amount of light into the hall, which they realised that it had been hidden from view by the waterfall. Trees that grew inside the palace supported wooden balconies on either side of the hall, and each of these were lined with guards. But all eyes were on the throne.

King Thranduil sat on a great throne, carved ornately and set with hundreds of jewels that sparkled green and white, set on a marble pedestal. Once the Elvenking would have looked as grand as the throne he sat on, but not anymore. Slumped across the chair, he was still dressed in the clothes that he had worn on the day he had found out about Legolas' death, and his frail hands clutched at his son's knives, the only memento he had left of his only heir. He looked exhausted, as though he hadn't slept in days, although weeks would probably have been more accurate, and his eyes were red from crying.

To his left stood a beautiful elven lady, dressed wholly in black. Her hair looked like spun gold, yet when the light hit it, it was tinted red. As Galadriel was to the morning and Arwen was to the evening, she was Areya to the afternoon, and had been Legolas' fiancée. It was therefore unsurprising that she looked as distraught as the king, and only a shadow of her former beauty.

As a small representative of Rohan's army entered, the king looked up at them, and Dallan bowed respectfully to his ruler.

"Well," Dallan said. "Welcome to Mirkwood."


	13. Chapter Thirteen: Welcome

Chapter Thirteen – Welcome

Nobody spoke. Most people were so appalled by the state of the king that they couldn't take their eyes off him. Gandalf was probably the most surprised, save Legolas – the last time he had encountered the king, Thranduil had looked as incredible as the songs had painted him, but now he looked pitiful. His skin hung off his thin frame, and he seemed to have aged a millennium in a day. The silence seemed to stretch forever until Areya broke the silence.

"Dallan, why have you brought these people here?"

"They bear... err... urgent tidings," he replied. He was also stunned by the king's appearance, not having entered the palace since making the plans for the walls.

"They are not good, I warn you," Elladan chipped in.

"Not good?" rasped Thranduil suddenly, causing everyone in the hall to jump. "I doubt that anything would be as bad as what I have already seen or heard. What could possibly be worse than the death of my son? What could possibly compare to that?"

Legolas was horrified by his father's appearance. How could his father have let himself fall into such a state? He looked at the floor for two reasons: one, he was worried that if he made eye contact with anyone then he would be recognised, and two, he felt that if he looked at Thranduil then he would be violating his privacy, as though he was looking at something that he shouldn't be allowed to see.

"I'm sorry," he said, "but Sauron has taken the Ring. Lothlórien and Rivendell have already fallen prey to the oncoming shadow, and the Dark Lord's armies are coming to Mirkwood next."

"Who are you?" asked the King. "Why should I trust you?"

"I am a messenger from Lothlórien. My name is Saladrion. I was the only person who escaped the siege alive."

"Oh, and some escaped dead, did they?" asked Anna sceptically.

Everyone ignored her.

"Saladrion?" asked Thranduil. "I hardly believe that. Old orcish for 'dead man.' I don't think so."

"True. That isn't my real name. But Sauron believes that I am among the dead in Lothlórien and if you were to learn of my identity then everyone in your city would be put into so much more danger than they already are."

"Why should I believe you? What proof do you have to offer me that you are telling the truth? Give me one good reason why I should trust you."

In answer, Legolas calmly reached into his pocket and pulled out a long chain, upon which swung a beautiful ring. Every eye in the hall fell onto it.

"Ah," murmured Thranduil eventually. "Nenya..."

Elladan stepped up. "And just in case you wanted proof about Rivendell's destruction, here." Elladan tore from his throat Vilya, and offered it up to the King to inspect.

The King looked at it for a long moment. "Once again, the Three have come together, for the first time since the start Last Alliance. You, Saladrion, or whatever your name is, hold Nenya. You, Elladan, hold Vilya, and you, Mithrandir, hold Narya. Maybe there is hope for Mirkwood after all."

"Well, plans for siege must be made instantly," said Théoden, having been very quiet since the fall of Rivendell. He had been shaken by the sight of what had happened to a very powerful realm, and as a result had said very little since. However, sparked at the thought that three very powerful objects were currently residing a few metres from him, he had finally recovered. "We have seen with our own eyes the devastation that Sauron has the power to wreak upon your land, if Rivendell was anything to go by."

Thranduil completely ignored Théoden, and looked at Areya. "Would you like to sort accommodation for our guests?"

Areya nodded curtly, and motioned for the small representative to follow them through a door on the side of the hall. In silence, they followed her up a short staircase until they reached a silent hallway.

"I'm sorry, he's not normally like this," Areya said apologetically to the small group of people who followed her.

"What _is_ he normally like?" asked Éomer.

"Shellshocked." Everyone looked bemused by her response, so she explained. "He was stunned by the news of the death of his son, as were we all. One minute everyone thought he was staying in Imladris, the next minute, he had apparently been tortured by Sauron and now his knives were lying on the floor and somebody was saying that he was dead. Now the king is completely different – he doesn't eat, doesn't sleep, doesn't even move. He barely speaks. He spoke more to you today than he has done to anyone since he found out. That's why everyone looked so surprised when he started talking to you."

"You all thought he was in Imladris?" said Elladan, surprised.

"Yes, we thought he had gone to relay a message regarding the escape of that wretched creature."

"Well we sent a messenger at the start of the winter saying that he had chosen to go on a quest to destroy the One Ring of Power."

"There was no messenger..." Areya couldn't hide her confusion. What on earth was the Prince of Rivendell on about?

"Well then maybe he got lost and never arrived, so came home and took the fee. You just can't trust these messengers..."

"Hey!" snapped Saladrion, elbowing Elladan in the ribs. "We're not all _that_ bad!"

"But why didn't the messenger arrive?" muttered Gandalf to himself almost silently.

"Well, he came back and looked shaken," said Elladan. "But when anyone tried to ask him why he just said that he got lost and met a band of orcs, and that he had just escaped with his life."

"Do you think he was telling the truth?" asked Aragorn.

"We had no reason to doubt him. I think he was just happy to be alive and home safely. His wife had just given birth to a beautiful baby girl."

"Anyway, lovely as this talk is," Areya steered the conversation away from untrustworthy messengers, getting slightly bored. "Your rooms are just through here."

With that, she led each person to their temporary accommodation, saying that she'd find a few inns of some shape or form that would house the army that had come from Rohan. Lastly, she led Legolas to the final room.

"So how are you?" he asked, just before entering the room.

"I-I'm sorry, I don't quite know what you mean..." she responded harshly, clearly not in the mood for flirting.

"Well, everyone seems to be focused on the King, but you must surely feel upset by Prince Legolas' death."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, you were engaged to him."

"How do you know about that?"

"It wasn't exactly a secret in Lothlórien that you were soon to marry him." This was perfectly true – in both Rivendell and Lothlórien it was common knowledge that should all have gone to plan, the pair were to have been wed that summer.

"Well, yes, it was hard. I don't imagine that it would ever have been different."

"You knew he would die?"

"No!" Areya looked annoyed. "I mean... I... You_ know_ what I mean!"

With that she turned on her heel and strode down the hall.

"Areya!" Legolas called after her.

With ill-disguised impatience, she turned around. "Yes?"

"If you ever need to talk, I'm right here."

He never got an answer, so he shut the door and leant on it. He was back in his house, near to his father once more, close to his fiancée again.

It just didn't feel like home any more.


	14. Chapter Fourteen: Strategies

Chapter Fourteen – Strategies

_Ten days later..._

Aragorn watched Saladrion pacing across the hall. So far there had been no news of the approaching army. Which led to one question that was playing on everybody's minds.

_Why haven't they arrived yet?_

Officially, Thranduil was in charge of the army and all decisions had to go through him. However, every time somebody asked him a question, his response would invariably be: "What's the point? Mirkwood's going to fall and everybody is going to follow Legolas into the halls of Mandos." So unofficially, Saladrion, Glorfindel, Elladan and Gandalf had taken charge. What amused Aragorn most was that even more unofficially, out of the four, Saladrion, the mysterious stranger, was probably in charge. He'd been put in that position by Elladan and Glorfindel, and in the couple of days that followed, Saladrion and Gandalf had participated in a hilarious power struggle. Eventually, Gandalf had yielded because Saladrion clearly knew his stuff about defending Mirkwood, as though he'd been doing it his whole life.

So this morning, Saladrion was pacing across the hall, when the doors opened, and one of the spies that had been sent out on the night of their arrival rushed in. This particular spy was called Eldareth, and had spent the past nine days sitting in a tree near the entrance to Dol Guldur.

"My lords," he gasped, as he ran, panting, into the room.

"For the last time," said Glorfindel exasperatedly. "Don't call me 'my lord' all the time. It drives me insane!"

Smiling at Glorfindel's pet hate of being recognised as somebody of higher status, Gandalf bade the spy to tell them what intelligence he had gathered before Glorfindel embarked on his spiel (again) about how he much preferred to be called by his name.

"Well, Sauron has arrived at Dol Gul-"

"You know, it's so utterly pointless," said Glorfindel, "everyone calling me 'my lord.' All it does is create an attitude of fear that I'm going to-"

"Glorfindel," said Saladrion. "Do me a favour and shut up."

"Right, sorry."

Saladrion turned back to the spy. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?"

"Sauron has arrived at Dol Guldur. He's planning on massing his armies there, and will strike in approximately nine days, when reinforcements from Mordor have arrived."

"I love how he feels he needs reinforcements just because we've put up a wall," muttered Elladan.

"Well it's also partly because we've got Rohan on our side," continued the spy. "But there's something else. A large crate of these new weapons that Sauron has been developing are going to be transported from Rivendell to Dol Guldur in two days."

"Transported from _Rivendell?_" asked Glorfindel incredulously.

"Yes, Rivendell has become an outpost for mechanical engineering."

"What are these weapons like?" asked Gimli.

"They're... terrifying," muttered the spy. "The orcs pull a trigger on them and then, with a bang, a small metal ball comes out of the end at shocking speeds, and while I don't particularly want to test this, I can imagine that they'd rip through our armour in seconds."

"What do they call them?" asked Saladrion.

"I'm not sure. But they have larger versions of these that don't have triggers that the orcs have to ignite and Sauron calls them 'cannons'."

"Ok, when did you say they were to be moved?"

"Well, the crate is leaving Rivendell in two days. I don't know when they will arrive."

"Well, what if they _didn't_ arrive?" There was a sparkle of mischief in Saladrion's eyes.

"What do you mean?" asked Elladan.

"What if the crate never arrived at Dol Guldur? What if it mysteriously disappeared? Do you follow me?"

There was an excited pause, before –

"No."

Saladrion rolled his eyes. "What if we were to _steal_ the crate? We could give them to our engineers, they could duplicate the weapons, possibly improve them, we could issue them to the army, and level the playing field!"

"That could spark the war..." said Gandalf.

"Well, we're ready. We thought they'd be attacking in a matter of days, so we prepared for that. But _they_ didn't, and so they're not ready for a war. My guess is that they'll wait for reinforcements, which will give us enough time to duplicate the weapons. And even if they don't, then they won't have the weapons either, and the playing field is level anyway."

"It's the perfect plan," said Aragorn, suddenly supporting Saladrion. "I like it. I'd lead the ambush if you wanted."

"Thank you, Aragorn. We should attack them shortly after they enter the forest. It will be further south than the Old Forest Road, because they wouldn't risk travelling far through the forest. They'll be disorientated. They don't know the forest, but we do and they won't be expecting us to attack then. The elves here tend not to pass across the Road, but it will be too far from Dol Guldur to get reinforcements from there. The only danger is that they'll catch up with you as you try to make it back here. So I'll station a back-up team a little further north so that anyone chasing you will die."

"That will _never_ work." Glorfindel had his arms folded and was glaring at Saladrion.

"It's crazy, I know," said Saladrion.

"Crazy, but there is a very small chance of success." Gimli unexpectedly sided with Saladrion.

"Aye, _provided_ we station the back-up team close enough to Dol Guldur so that any following orcs won't retake the weapons, but far enough away so that it takes Sauron too long to send more out immediately afterwards," Elladan said. "But I reckon we could do that."

Gandalf nodded. True, it was insane, but it was just the recklessness that Saladrion possessed that was needed to win this war. He looked at Glorfindel, who was shaking his head dubiously.

"Well I still think it's stupid," said the elf. "But I can see I'm outnumbered, so do whatever you choose. I'll back down."

"Excellent," said Saladrion. "So we'll-"

"It's not going to work," said a despairing voice. They looked exasperatedly at the throne, where the King sat, and as he seemed oblivious to his surroundings, his surroundings had learnt to ignore him. However, he still was technically in charge, so (with a certain amount of impatience) the hall turned to look at him.

"Why won't it work?" asked Legolas. He was getting rather sick of his father's cynical attitude. He knew that the chances were that they were all going to die when Sauron attacked, but he didn't need reminding of that particular detail every few minutes.

"Because Sauron's too strong and my people have nothing to fight for-"

"_Nothing to fight for?_ What is this? They have _everything_ to fight for! How about their country, their king, their freedom? What about those things? They will fight to the death trying to bring Sauron down, because they'd rather die on their feet than live on their knees."

Thranduil sighed. "What's the point-"

SMACK!

"I have had just about enough of your attitude!" snapped Legolas, repeating the phrases that his father had used when he was shouting at Legolas as an elfling. "You should be out there ruling your people, not sitting here clutching those _idiotic_ knives! What kind of ruler _are_ you? No, _don't_ cry on me! Kings don't cry! For the love of the Valar, I am _sick_ of your stupid, pathetic attitude. Now if you're not going to grow up, then you can remove yourself from this room. Go on, go! And leave the stupid knives!"

Thranduil, like everyone else in the hall, was stunned by Legolas' reaction, not least because he'd slapped the king. What stunned everyone even more was that afterwards, he stood up, placed the knives on the chair, and left the hall. Once he'd left, Legolas turned to be greeted by the same shocked expression that had been on Thranduil's face on every other face in the room.

It was only then, as everything else was perfectly still in the room, that he noticed the chandelier swinging.


	15. Chapter Fifteen: Spies

Chapter Fifteen – Spies

Everyone's eyes followed Legolas', and stared intently at the chandelier. It didn't take elf eyes to see that, hidden in the chandelier, was an orc.

Instantly Legolas sprung into action. "You two," he said urgently, pointing to the guards closest to the door. "Barricade the door, don't let anyone in or out without my permission."

"Why?" asked Elladan, a little slow on the uptake. "There's only one orc, we can take him down."

"One orc that we _know_ of. There could be a thousand more that we _don't_ know about, sitting in the palace listening to every word we say."

In the time it had taken for them to say these words, the orc had disentangled itself from the chandelier, and had made a leap from the balcony. However, it had completely misjudged the jump, missed the balcony, and landed flat on its face near the side of the hall. By the time it had recovered, it had been hauled to its feet by Pippin, and Glorfindel was pointing a knife at its throat.

"Tell me what you heard!" he snarled at the creature. Legolas now recognised it as the one who he had left in the pit on the day he had escaped from Mordor, but chose not to say anything.

The orc laughed. "What makes you think I'd tell you?"

"Because you're locked in a room in the middle of Mirkwood with no hope of escape and my friend Glorfindel is pointing a poisoned blade at your neck," said Éomer matter-of-factly. "If I were you, I'd start talking.

The orc laughed again. "Oh, come on, pretty boy, you're going to have to try harder than that!"

"_Pretty boy!_" exclaimed Éomer furiously.

"Don't rise to it, Éomer," sighed Legolas.

"What? Saladrion, did you hear what he just-"

"Yes, I heard perfectly well. I also realised that he is trying to bait you, something that he learnt off his master, who is an expert in that field. Only, this orc can't do it _nearly_ as well as Sauron."

"You dare speak his name?" hissed the orc.

"Yes I do. Now shush."

Surprisingly, the orc fell silent.

"Now how did you get into Mirkwood?" asked Gandalf.

"That's for me to know and you never to-"

Glorfindel kicked him in between the legs.

"-OW! Ok, I'll tell you!"

Most of the room was struggling to keep their smirks hidden. It had taken one kick in the right place to break the orc. Crude, but effective.

"I was smuggled in by an elf from Rivendell. He was a messenger that was usually sent to relay messages to and from Mirkwood."

"The messenger betrayed us?" asked Elladan, shocked.

"As if," replied the orc. "We captured him at the start of winter as he was sent to Mirkwood to give a message to the King. We tortured him until he told us the contents of this message. Apparently the king's son was to be part of a group of people, dubbed 'The Fellowship of the Ring,' whose quest was to enter Mordor with the One Ring, cast the Ring into the fires of Mount Doom and end the Dark Lord's 'reign of terror.' So naturally, the Dark Lord stationed guards on all entrances to Mordor, watching out for any sign of the hobbit named 'Frodo Baggins.' If he were to be found, he was to be brought alive, and unharmed, to the Dark Lord."

"So you knew?" Legolas said, his tone matching Elladan's.

"You knew all about the whereabouts of the Ring?" Merry was furious.

"Of course!" snapped the orc.

"Well then, why didn't you attack us?" Pippin asked the orc, his face taking the phrase 'if looks could kill' to a new level.

"We didn't need to. You were going to walk right into our arms. Why should we send out an army to capture you, which you could quite easily avoid, when you were going to come straight to us?"

"What does this have anything to do with getting into Mirkwood?" Legolas snapped. "Because I feel we're getting side-tracked here."

"Well," the orc started. "We-"

"Don't tell them anything else!" came a new voice. Everyone looked around the hall for the source of the disturbance. One of the guards spotted the second orc hiding in an alcove behind a statue, and lobbed a spear at the creature.

At that moment, the orc decided to break cover and ran to tackle Pippin, who was still keeping the first orc restrained by pointing his sword at the orc's back. However, the second orc never got there, because Legolas tripped it up, and pointed the two knives that he had carried from Mordor through Lothlórien and Rivendell at the creature as it got to its feet.

When he saw the orc's face, he realised that, like the first orc, he recognised it. It was the orc he had threatened on his first day awake in Mordor, the same orc who had suggested that they extracted information from him, the same orc who had delivered so much of his pain to him in the month he had spent in Dungeon Zero, the same orc who had raised the alarm for his escape, the same orc who had tried to ensure that even if he made it out of Mordor, he would never shoot an arrow, or lift a sword, again. An anger blazed flared up inside Legolas and he felt something he had never felt before: bloodlust. He longed to see fear in those small, black eyes, he wanted the orc to realise that, despite its best efforts, Legolas was still alive, and was going to extinguish the life of that orc as easily as he could extinguish the flame from a candle.

The orc saw the blazing ire in the elf's eyes as said elf placed a blade on either side of its neck.

"You've got five seconds to give me a reason why I shouldn't _kill_ you!" he said in his deadliest voice. He saw the realisation in the orc's eyes as the creature recognised that voice, that phrase. Legolas felt satisfaction as that look changed from realisation to fear and horror. "Five... Four..."

"I... I.. B-B-But..." the orc stuttered.

"Three..."

"I... Y-Y-You're..."

"Two..."

"I... I.."

"One..."

"You're meant to be _dead!_" the orc finally blurted.

Legolas paused. "Sorry, not good enough."

With that, the elf sliced through the orc's neck. The head hit the floor before the rest of the body crumpled.

"Oh, and, err, for the record," said Legolas, stowing his knives back into their sheaths, "no I'm not. You are."

Legolas looked up from the orc's corpse. Everyone was staring at him with a mixture of shock and fear. "Comb the palace," he ordered the guards. "There could be more lurking around. Same order still stands – nobody enters or leaves the castle without my permission."

"What of the other orc?" asked one of the guards.

Legolas hesitated, before walking up to the orc. Without a word, he stabbed the creature through the throat.

"If you find any others," he said to the room at large, "kill them."

* * *

><p>Glorfindel chased Legolas up the stairs. "Hey!" he called. "Hey, wait!"<p>

He finally caught up with the retreating elf as they turned into the corridor that their rooms were off. "What in the name of the Valar was _that_?" he snarled.

"What do you mean?" Legolas countered indifferently.

"That orc was practically begging for mercy, and you just... you just decapitated him."

"You just answered your first question."

"My _question_ was 'why did you do that?'"

"He recognised me. He knew too much. I couldn't let him go." Legolas' tone remained calmly indifferent, unflinching by the other elf's ire.

"He only recognised you because you practically _told_ him who you were! It was clear that _you_ recognised _him_. What did he do that deserved _that?_"

"Glorfindel," Legolas finally lost his cool. "That orc tried to kill me! He was effectively the one who suggested to Sauron that I should be tortured in ways that your tiny little brain could barely imagine! He was the one who raised the alarm as I tried to escape from Mordor! He wanted to cut off my hands to try and loosen my tongue. The only reason why I escaped that fate was that the day he suggested it was the day that Sauron captured Frodo and Sam, and all Sauron wanted to do was play with his old toy that he'd just found!"

"Was that a reason to _kill_ him when he was effectively defenceless and begging for mercy?"

"In my book, yes!"

"What's _happened _to you?" asked Glorfindel. "What happened to forgiving Legolas that all of Mirkwood loved?"

"Oh, what happened to the naive little elf who was so ready to overlook the fact that people wanted him dead? He got hardened to the horrors of the outside world!" He turned to storm off towards his room. When he was half way down the corridor, Glorfindel spoke again, in incredulous tones that shocked even Legolas.

"Who _are_ you?"

Legolas looked around to check that nobody was within earshot. "I'm not the same Legolas who left Rivendell with the Fellowship of the Ring. I'm not the same Legolas who was captured at Helm's Deep. That Legolas is _dead!_"

With that, he turned and entered his room, slamming the door as hard as he could, leaving a confused Glorfindel standing alone in the corridor.


	16. Chapter Sixteen: Arrival

Chapter Sixteen – Arrival

_A week later..._

Things were going surprisingly well in Mirkwood. The orcs that were carrying the crate moved in exactly the way that Saladrion had said that they would, and that mission had been carried out to great effect. The engineers had managed to figure out how to make the weapons, and now the army were equipped with them. Thranduil hadn't been seen since the day that Saladrion had slapped him, and so the army had officially put Saladrion in charge. What was more, the rogue messenger from Rivendell had been found. Dead.

The best healers were at a loss to explain how the messenger had died. Aragorn suspected that the orcs had carried out a revenge attack on him, but the only thing they found on him was a small scar near the base of his neck, that looked more like an insect bite than anything else. It was also almost fully healed and couldn't have been sustained less than three months ago. And his wife testified to the fact that he had, quite literally, dropped dead the day after the death of the two orc spies. There was no sign of anything changing, but he had suddenly, without any warning, collapsed in the middle of a conversation. By the time his wife had crossed the fifty centimetres between them, he had died. And nobody knew how or why.

Aragorn noted that everyone was looking at Saladrion in a totally new light. He was no longer the calm, composed elf that everyone had previously thought of him as. They had seen a monster that had revealed that day, and now they regarded him with something new: fear.

The atmosphere nowadays between Glorfindel and Saladrion would have made the atmosphere between Legolas and Gimli upon their first meeting look like greeting an old friend. Aragorn watched as Glorfindel was furious at Saladrion, and Saladrion became increasingly frustrated with Glorfindel. The pair couldn't stay in the same room for much longer than a minute without an argument erupting between the two that would invariably end with one of them punching the other on the nose. From hat Aragorn gathered, Glorfindel was enraged by Saladrion's treatment of both Thranduil and the orcs. Of course, he only knew half the story.

Glorfindel felt that Legolas should have forgiven the orc for whatever past sin that orc had committed against him, and also he felt that Legolas should reveal himself to the rest of the world. He felt that, having seen the state of Thranduil, Legolas should put his father out of his unnecessary misery and show his face to the world. Legolas' defence was that he didn't have a choice _but_ to kill the orc, and if Thranduil learnt that his son survived then he, Legolas, and consequently the whole of Mirkwood would be put into danger. After all, look at what had happened to most of the people who had seen his face. To which Glorfindel's response was that Legolas was a heartless selfish son of an orc. At which point, Legolas would punch him hard on the nose.

So it was on that morning that nobody was surprised when Saladrion walked into the room, only to turn around and the sight of Glorfindel and leave. Aragorn tutted, finally sick of this behaviour. He grabbed the somewhat startled Glorfindel and dragged him towards the door from which Saladrion had just disappeared behind.

"Saladrion!" he called after the blue cape that had just whipped around the corner and out of sight.

"No!" came the now-familiar voice.

"Oh, for the Valar's sake," Aragorn muttered under his breath as Glorfindel wrenched his arm free. Deciding that he'd find Glorfindel more easily, he chased after Saladrion, finally dragging him back into the throne room. Fortunately, Gandalf had picked up on Aragorn's scheme and stopped Glorfindel crossing the hall. Aragorn nodded his thanks to the wizard, and sat Saladrion down on a chair opposite Glorfindel.

"Right, I for one am _sick_ of this behaviour. The pair of you are acting like elleth, and I want this over now. I don't care who hurt who first, this ends today. In case it escaped your notice, we are at war, and you two are meant to be in charge. So you are both going to put aside your differences for the sake of this kingdom, and for the sake of Middle Earth."

Saladrion looked up at Aragorn with an expression in his eyes that quite clearly said 'you have got to be kidding me'. "Seriously?"

"No, I'm sitting you down opposite each other because I want you two to have a wrestling match- _Of course this is serious!_ If you two don't stop arguing then you're both confined to your chambers!"

"Well I won't stop until he apologises," said Glorfindel, glaring at Saladrion.

"And I won't apologise until he backs down. I did what I had to do, and if he can't handle it then he should just-"

"ENOUGH!" bellowed Gimli before Saladrion got any further.

"I think we've heard enough," said Aragorn. "Saladrion, apologise."

"What? Why do I have to-"

"_Now!_" Aragorn used his deadliest voice.

Saladrion suddenly mellowed, and looked almost ashamed at himself. "Glorfindel, I'm sorry I killed that orc."

"And?"

"And for breaking your nose six times."

Glorfindel smiled. "Apology accepted." He realised that Legolas was not actually apologising for killing the orc, but for just how much he had changed. And he saw now, by the sincerity in his eyes, that he loathed himself for it.

At that point, one of the guards came rushing in. "My lords," he said urgently. "You need to come. Now."

Saladrion got up, feeling stiff again. It seemed to happen a lot recently - every time he stayed in one position for long his limbs would seize up and become stiff. However, this was the shortest amount of time it had taken so far. But, like every other time, he didn't let it show and continued with business as usual. He, Glorfindel, Elladan, Aragorn, Gandalf, Gimli, Théoden and Éomer followed the guard out. They saw, just outside the gates of the city, that a small black tent had been erected.

"They want to negotiate," said the guard.

"Ready the horses," ordered Saladrion.

Everyone looked at him, aghast.

"Saladrion, we're not going to negotiate with them!" said Elladan furiously.

"No, we're not," replied Saladrion serenely. "We're going to tell them into exactly which part of their body they can stuff their idea of negotiations."

* * *

><p>The party of eight was escorted to the tent by twelve of Mirkwood's royal guard. They were greeted by a line of orcs who leered at the new arrivals. One particularly foul orc chieftain told them that their master awaited them inside the tent. And so in went the eight ambassadors.<p>

They were met with the sight of somebody who had they had heard of in stories and songs, seen paintings of him, but only one of their party had ever actually met – Sauron stood on a small platform. A chill passed over the company. Also present were eight orcish guards, and Sauron's most loyal servant and Legolas' old 'friend,' the Witch-King of Angmar.

"I'm not one for greetings," drawled Sauron, "so let's cut to the chase. You surrender Mirkwood unto me, and all of its people will be spared. True, they will become slaves to me, but if you do not surrender Mirkwood, then I will take it by force and all of its people will die. Either way, I still get Mirkwood. The only question is how much bloodshed there needs to be before I do."

"I would advise you to take it," said one of the orcs. "If you don't then you must be an idiot."

"A _real_ idiot," added another.

Saladrion sighed. "You," he said, pointing to the first orc. "If you're going to stay here, then shut up. "You," he turned to the second orc. "You're not adding any useful input into this conversation, so go away. Go on! Shoo! And you," he said finally, turning to Sauron. "You need to realise that the people of Middle Earth are not going to bow willingly to you. The people of Lothlórien didn't, the people of Rivendell didn't, and neither will the people of Mirkwood. So you can go and die a sad, lonely death in Mordor with your bunch of ugly, deformed, pig-like sla-"

"Shut your mouth, you insolent little elf!" snarled the Witch-King.

Saladrion turned to face him. "Was I talking to you?"

"No, but-"

"Good, then I wasn't sending mixed messages. Now shut up." He turned back to Sauron. "Now where was I? Oh yes, talking about how you were going to die. You can go and die a sad, lonely death in Mordor with your bunch of ugly, deformed, pig-like slaves and send me a letter when you do so I can come and dance on your grave."

"I don't need to hear this." Sauron cut through Saladrion's monologue. "You need to understand something. I didn't just kill the prince of this city. I _burned_ him. I burned his soul as I burned his body with the fire of Mordor, and now he's gone. He's gone. He's gone and he'll never, _ever_ live again."

"No," said Saladrion quietly. " You're wrong. Because he still lives on inside the heart of everyone fighting in that city. And his spirit will still walk among this land long after you are gone, and he still will walk this earth when every last remnant of you is gone. He will live, and you will die."

Saladrion turned to leave, and the others followed him.

* * *

><p>That night, the silence that fell over Mirkwood as its inhabitants slept was broken by the sound of an orc horn. The sound of war was fast approaching, and everyone looked out of their windows to see the glades that surrounded the city filled with Sauron's armies, a shadow that stretched back into the forest as far as even the keenest elf-eyes could see.<p>

Sauron had come at last.


	17. Chapter Seventeen: Siege

Chapter Seventeen – Siege

Legolas stared out over the army, nearly speechless. This was bigger than what he had seen at Lothlórien, bigger than what he had seen at Rivendell.

"Valar, help us," he murmured.

Just as everyone was digesting the size of this army, Gandalf noticed one of the cannons on the front line being loaded up, and it was pointing straight at them.

"GET DOWN!"

Startled back to their senses, everyone dived for cover as a large flaming cannonball came speeding towards them with a bang. It crashed straight into the rose window, showering everyone below with hot glass. Legolas noticed that the throne room was on fire.

"Thranduil," he gasped. Without another word, he sprinted back inside.

The great hall was wrecked. Most people who were already inside were getting out, but he saw no sign of either Areya or Thranduil. Passing by the large metal ball that had slammed into the back wall and ignited the wooden panelling, causing fragments of polished oak to fall to the floor, he sprinted up the stairs. He finally found his father's chambers, where Areya was desperately tugging at the king's arm for him to leave.

"Are you both all right?" asked Legolas.

"He won't leave," Areya responded haughtily.

"Ok, listen. Areya, I don't care who is still in the palace, but you have to get out. I'll take the king."

Areya looked into those reassuring green eyes and trusted him, leaving without a fuss. Once she had left the room, Legolas turned back to the king.

"Sorry Ada," he muttered, before hitting the back of the king's head with the hilt of his knife.

He emerged a few minutes later from the palace, half-carrying, half-dragging the unconscious ruler of Mirkwood.

"What did you _do?_" screamed Areya indignantly.

"Well it got him out, didn't it?" responded Legolas in the same tone.

In the time it had taken for Legolas to go back into the palace, find his father and bring his father out, Mirkwood had descended into chaos. Several more buildings had collapsed and most people were running around screaming. Instantly Legolas took charge.

Ten minutes later, Legolas was riding through the streets. "Archers to the walls, swordsmen, defend the gate!" he ordered repeatedly. Eventually, the army organised itself, and on the walls, archers bent their bows, aiming for the front line of orcs.

"FIRE!" screamed Legolas.

With the sound of thousands of bowstrings being loosened, the front line of orcs fell. Legolas smiled smugly to himself as the elves bent their bows back again, fitting more arrows into the strings.

With another cry, the arrows were let loose and all of them found a mark. As the third volley of arrows whistled through the air, the orcs realised exactly what was killing their comrades, and started shooting back. Fairly soon a fully-fledged battle was going on, and arrows were flying in both directions, felling elf and orc alike.

Suddenly everyone heard an ear-splitting shriek – not one that everyone associated with the Nazgûl, but one that Elladan and Glorfindel associated with very bad news. So it was not surprising that when they saw a flame flash through the sky, Elladan diverted his attention from the oncoming waves of arrows from the orcs to said flame, and fired an arrow at it. With another shriek, the flame extinguished and a small form fell to the ground. Upon inspection, it transpired that the flame was a phoenix, and Elladan's arrow had pierced its gullet. Unfortunately, that was not the only phoenix in Sauron's army.

Fairly soon, the sky was ablaze with streaks of bright orange splitting the endless darkness above them. Arrows were soaring in quite literally every direction imaginable. You couldn't move anywhere without extreme caution. And then came the shriek that everyone _did_ associate with the Nazgûl.

The black shadows that were camouflaged against the sky suddenly dived through the flames and swept along the walls of Mirkwood. Some ducked and escaped unharmed, some dived off the wall and were either severely winded or stabbed, depending on which side they dived towards, some duckd but were still hurt, and some didn't duck in time and were either thrown back with severe gashes across their torso or else picked up in the Nazgûl's claws and were never seen alive again. Which led to even more arrows flying in every single direction.

Somehow, due to an extraordinary amount of luck, Legolas made it down to the gate and found Glorfindel and Pippin without getting torn to pieces. Elladan screamed a warning to Legolas that Sauron was sending his battering ram towards them.

"Well, look on the bright side," muttered Glorfindel to Legolas and Aragorn, who was standing on his other side. "Even if they break down the gate, they're not all going to fit into the city."

"Why is that a bright side?" asked Gimli, who was sitting on the back of Aragorn's horse.

"Well, they'll only come into the city in manageable waves, so we'll be able to deal with them, a few hundred thousand at a time."

Aragorn grinned at Glorfindel's black humour. "What makes you think that we'll be able to deal with the waves?"

"Well, Sauron's going to want as many of them to come in as possible, and so they'll all wedge themselves together, and so the archers up there will have the world's easiest target practice."

"Yes, but then we'll get wedged together too," Gandalf (bearing Merry) suddenly materialised at their side, having heard the entire conversation."

"Always the voice of optimism, aren't you, Mithrandir?" Glorfindel smiled at the wizard, and got a glare for his trouble.

A loud bang suddenly resounded over the city, as the battering ram slammed for the first time into the gate.

"Oh, here we go," said Aragorn.

"Aye, time to find out if your wedging hypothesis is going to come true," Gimli said to Glorfindel.

"I don't think it will," said Pippin nonchalantly as the hobbit drew his sword, staring defiantly at the gate from in front of Glorfindel.

"I wasn't being serious, but it _might_ become true. You never know. What do you think, Saladrion?" he looked around, only to find that Legolas had disappeared. "Saladrion?"

Legolas had actually become bored of the argument long before, and had left to find Théoden and Éomer after the first bang.

"Right-" BANG! "-As soon as those gates open and you have a clear path, go. I don't want any heroics, so if you think it looks like a suicide mission, pull back."

"Saladrion, we've been through this before." Théoden gave a withering look to the elf.

"Just making sure that you know. After all, you're no use to anybody dead." He turned to leave. "Oh, and good luck," he added as an afterthought.

"Thank you. And to you too," responded Éomer.

With a third, final crash, the gates broke open. It was only as they saw the first line of trolls that they realised just how much of a task defending Mirkwood was going to be. However, one well-placed shot coming from Legolas ensured that the Rohirrim had the opening that they needed.

"Théoden, now!" the elf yelled.

With a cry, the Rohirrim plunged forwards into the fray. A column of green met the mass of black, and the orcs screeched as the horsemen carved their way through, cutting down anything that got in their way. The orc archers now focused on the oncoming riders, leaving the elven archers to focus on the sky. Under (or over) a hail of arrows, many of the phoenixes fell to the ground, along with a couple of the Nazgûl. However, it wasn't long before the orcs fought back, and Sauron unleashed his deadliest creatures.

An ear-splitting roar echoed over the forest, and four dragons soared into the sky. With a second roar, one of the dragons swooped down low over the city, releasing a long burst of its fire. The wooden structures and trees burnt, and Legolas could hear the cries of the trees (some of which had been standing there since he was born) as they kindled. Arrows flew towards this new threat, before a second group of dragons was unleashed upon the city. This second group focused on the Rohirrim, and it wasn't long before Théoden was forced to call a retreat.

Meanwhile, orcs were spilling into the city through the ruined gates. They were met with elvish swordsmen, led by the four captains. Legolas fired a few arrows at the horde of orcs, all of which met their target, but it wasn't long before he had to exchange his bow for his two knives. He sliced one orc's head off in a fluid movement, while at the same time stabbing another through the throat. As these two fell, they were instantly replaced by more.

He stabbed another through the chest with both knives, before bringing them down hard onto another orc's head. Yet another tried to take a swipe at him, but its sword was met with the white knives, and it was thrown back with a large amount of force into Glorfindel, where Pippin stabbed it through the head. As an orc tried (once again) to stab Legolas from behind, Demetreos seemed to notice and kicked out, hard, with her back legs. Legolas felt an immense pride at the horse.

Aragorn was having similar difficulties. He was surrounded by the foul creatures, and while he had initially had Gimli with him, the dwarf had soon jumped down and was holding his own against the horde, despite the fact that he was much shorter. However, swinging a heavy battle-axe around in a circle and ensuring that no orc comes within a foot of you is a very effective way of fighting.

But it wasn't long before everyone had one thought in their minds: _We need more men._

Merry had become separated from Gandalf, and being a short hobbit in the midst of a very big battle was not a nice situation to be in. Everywhere he looked, he saw ugly faces leering at him, or swords flashing as they tried to kill him. True, he wasn't that much shorter than Gimli, and Gimli was in a similar position to him and was surviving, but unlike the dwarf, Merry didn't have a large battle-axe to swing around randomly, or the strength to wield one.

So when he heard cries of dismay come from some way above him, he instantly tried to see what was happening. But, taking his eye off the orcs and trying to survive in exchange for trying to see what was going on, he missed the blade flashing to his side. He felt a blinding pain as the sword pierced his armour and plunged into his side. He heard a cracking sound as one of his ribs broke, and warm blood spilled down onto his tunic. He let out a cry of pain as his knees buckled. He didn't see the orc raise its weapon to strike the deadly blow. He didn't notice an arrow sail over his head to hit the orc in the chest, causing it to fall over and die as a second arrow hit it. He barely noticed himself be lifted up off the floor, or the fast white horse that carried him back to the palace.

* * *

><p>Legolas stopped outside the wrecked palace. It was no longer burning, as some of the guards had extinguished the fire, and the fire was burning out anyway when they tried, but nobody went in.<p>

_So much death..._

Looking out over the burning city, he could see just how bad the situation was. Elves were dying left, right and centre, the Rohirrim were severely depleted in numbers, and now Merry was dying too. He asked Areya to look after Merry, before jumping back onto Demetreos.

_There is no way that we can hold off Sauron for long..._

A thought crept into his mind. At first, he banished it. It was shameful. But after looking over the battle for a few minutes, he realised that he didn't have a choice. There was nothing to be done here.

There was nothing left.

* * *

><p>As Théoden ordered the Rohirrim to retreat further back into the city, he caught sight of something that caught his breath.<p>

A lone figure was riding a white horse out of an opening to the south of Sauron's armies. How that figure had gotten there was a mystery, but he recognised the horse, and he recognised the blue cape.

Saladrion was abandoning them.

He had betrayed them all.

"COWARD!" Théoden screamed to the retreating figure. "YOU COWARD! YOU SHOULD STAY AND FIGHT! CURSE YOU, YOU COWARD!"

Legolas heard the man's screams over the din of everything else. He could also feel what nobody else could see. Hot tears streamed down his face at the thought that he was abandoning his friends. But he didn't have a choice.

There was no other way.

* * *

><p><strong>Translations:<strong>

**Ada - Father**


	18. Chapter Eighteen: Betrayal

Chapter Eighteen – Betrayal

They fought through most of the night, and eventually managed to force the orcs back out of the gates, which were hastily barricaded so that nobody could get in or out. There, in the light of the red dawn that spilled over the cliff, Aragorn, Elladan, Gandalf, Gimli and Pippin looked out over Mirkwood, and a scene of total devastation met their eyes.

The city was in ruins. The ground was hardly visible between the wreckage of fallen houses and trees, and the bodies of countless elves, men and orcs littered the floor. The stench of death was so palpable in the air that they could almost taste it. Yet even as they watched, they saw elves try to barricade and repair the gate, to stop the orcs from coming through again. Having almost trashed the battering ram, the combined armies had ensured that Sauron was reluctant to take out his new toy.

_And this was only the first day..._

The wrecked palace had become a house of healing. Having swept the charred remnants of the walls out of the main hall and moved the large metal sphere, people had set up beds in the throne room and healers had been summoned there. Only, despite the large amount of beds that had initially been set out, most were now full.

Gandalf was worried. He had managed to lose Merry in the midst of the battle and hadn't been able to find him. His only clue was that one of the soldiers had seen Saladrion, who was also nowhere to be seen this morning, take him up to the palace.

"Did anyone see a hobbit?" asked Gandalf to the room at large.

One of the healers looked at him quizzically.

"Small, only a child to your eyes, curly hair?"

The healer pointed unspeaking to a bed down the far end of the room. Gandalf rushed over with Pippin to find Merry sitting upright in bed, bandages wound tightly around his chest.

"Merry, are you all right?" Pippin asked.

Merry glanced up at Pippin scathingly. "I'm going to give you a second to think about that, and then if you're still not sure, ask me again." His voice was hoarse, and he looked pale and drawn.

"How did you get here?" asked Gandalf.

"Saladrion saved me."

"Yes... Speaking of which, where _is_ Saladrion?"

"That traitorous coward?" came a voice from the left. Éomer had been led to the bed next to Merry in the time that they had spent talking, having sustained a deep cut across his thigh. "He left. The filthy coward abandoned us halfway through the night. He betrayed us all."

* * *

><p><em>Twelve days later...<em>

Sauron's forces had set up camp in the forest. While battles still raged frequently, they were nothing like the full-blown storms that had occurred on the first night. Both sides had been devastated by their losses that both had backed down. And Sauron had hoped that Mirkwood would be his after one battle, but when the resistance proved stronger than he had thought it would be, he was forced to rethink.

The plains outside the city gate were left as no-man's land, or, as some of the orcs called it as a joke, dead-man's land, due to the masses of bodies that littered the floor from battles that had previously occurred. These small battles would end in a stale-mate, because if the battles ended with Sauron winning, he would be reluctant to attack the city, and if Mirkwood won, then they would be reluctant to leave the safety of the city. So it merely ended in a stale-mate.

Everyone was shaken by Saladrion's betrayal. Initially, Elladan and Glorfindel had hoped that he would come back, but pretty soon, they lost faith. Aragorn, Gandalf, Théoden, Éomer, Gimli and Merry had very little faith at the beginning, and whatever hope they had was long gone. Only Pippin still thought that he was going to return. Merry, who had healed remarkably well, eventually confronted his closest friend about it.

"Why are you so certain that he will come back?"

"I just... I just know he will," Pippin replied.

"How? How do you know that he hasn't abandoned us all?"

"He hasn't,"

"How do you _know_ that? What do we know about him? All we know is that he's an elf with a false name who won't even show us his face, and ever since we met him the elven dwellings have fallen into rack and ruin. How do you know that isn't a complete coward?"

"He wouldn't,"

"How do you know?"

"BECAUSE I KNOW WHO HE IS!" Pippin finally blurted.

Merry looked at him, astonished.

"Who is he?" demanded Merry.

"I can't tell you,"

"Why not?"

"Because I promised that I wouldn't!"

"You're keeping _secrets?_"

"It's not my secret to keep!"

"But it's your _promise!_"

"Well, whoever he is is irrelevant!" Pippin tried a different tack. "I know that he's not a coward, not after what he went through, and that he wouldn't abandon Mirkwood. He's less likely to abandon Mirkwood than Gandalf!"

"Well here's the truth: he did! And you had better accept it!"

"No he didn't! You don't understand!"

"Well then, tell me so that I do!"

"I can't!"

"Well, if you want to believe that he's coming back, then _fine!_ If you want to keep secrets from me, then that's also fine! But I am not going to believe that that backstabbing coward is coming back-"

"Backstabbing coward?" Pippin repeated incredulously. "Saladrion saved your life! Have you forgotten that? Isn't that enough to earn your respect?"

"Yes, and running away in the middle of a battle is enough to lose it!"

"How do you know that he's run away?"

"How do _you_ know that he hasn't?"

"Because... Oh, Mandos help me," Pippin pulled Merry into the nearest empty room. "Because Saladrion is Legolas!" he hissed.

Merry paused for a long minute. "What?"

"Saladrion is Legolas," Pippin repeated.

"But then... he lied to us?" Merry asked.

"Yes."

"About _everything?_"

"What?- _No!_ Only about the fact that he was dead and that he came from Lothlórien."

"But then... How did he escape from Mordor?"

"I don't know. He never told me..."

"Well that explains a lot," Merry said.

"Listen, Merry, I know this is hard, but you can't tell _anyone_. Not even Legolas."

"But how did he escape?"

"I don't know," Pippin was becoming exasperated that Merry was focusing on how he escaped and not even listening to the warning that Pippin was trying to give him.

"We don't know what he went through..." Merry said slowly. "What if he snapped? What if he was sent by Sauron to lead Rohan into a trap in exchange for his freedom?"

"What? That's ludicrous! May I remind you _again_ that he saved your life? Why would he do that if he was trying to destroy Rohan?"

"Well, you think of a reason why he left then!"

Pippin didn't answer. He had felt doubt towards Legolas' loyalties ever since he had left, and every day that he didn't return strengthened these doubts. What if Merry was right? What if Legolas wasn't coming back? What if Legolas _had _betrayed them all?

* * *

><p>Sauron was bored. He was sick and tired of everyone bringing him the same news every single day. <em>"I'm sorry, we didn't win dead-man's land." "Good news! We've got control of dead-man's land! But we didn't advance because we were too scared to." "Yeah, you know how we reclaimed dead-man's land earlier today? Well, the whiteskins have it again. Sorry about that..."<em>

"BORED!"

"I'm sorry, my lord?" replied the startled Witch-King.

"I am so insanely _BORED!_"

"Why, my lord?"

"Because we've been sitting here for twelve days and we're fighting over the same scrap of land that we were at the start, and we're in exactly the same position as we were twelve days ago. And I- AM- BORED!"

"You're also throwing a tantrum," muttered the Witch-King under his breath so that Sauron couldn't hear.

"I want Mirkwood!" Sauron stormed up and down his tent. "I didn't come here to fight over a worthless scrap of grass! If I wanted to do that, I would have stolen a field off one of the strategy models in Lothlórien!"

"But I swear that Unglurn said he wanted that," said the Witch-King, referring to one of the orc chieftains.

Sauron spared his captain one withering glance before returning to his pacing, with an exhausted "That was my point."

After a few minutes of awkward silence on the Witch-King's part, and intense thinking and relentless pacing on Sauron's part, Sauron spoke again.

"In the early hours of the morning, about an hour before sunrise, we are going to march onto Mirkwood. I don't care how, but by the end of tomorrow, Mirkwood will be ours, or we will all be dead. My money is on the former. They do not have the strength to withstand our entire army."

And so Mordor's armies advanced onto the city, as the sky turned from black to a deep, clear blue. From within the city, Mirkwood's armies stared out, shellshocked by the oncoming horde of Sauron's. Sauron himself was going to enter the fray if the city had not been captured by noon, and Mirkwood's armies had very little hope.

Suddenly a horn sounded to the south. Well, not so much a horn as a cacophony of them. All eyes, both inside and out of the city, froze, and turned towards the sound.

Marching towards the city was a huge mass of heavily armed people. They were a mixture of all the races that opposed Sauron. A large selection of banners fluttered in the breeze – the banners of Gondor, Rohan, Dain's folk from the Lonely Mountain, the Dunedain, and for some reason Isengard. These armies fanned out in front of the walls of Mirkwood, and Aragorn noticed from atop the walls a figure who was leading them. A figure clad entirely in blue and on a very white horse.

Saladrion had returned.


	19. Chapter Nineteen: Hope

Chapter Nineteen – Hope

Saladrion hadn't run away. He had never had any intention of running away. Quite the contrary – he had gone in search of aid. He had manged to ride down to Gondor at an incredibly fast gallop, even by his horse's standards, in three days, and had ridden back up to Mirkwood via every dwelling he knew of that opposed Sauron over the course of the next nine. And he had stopped at these dwellings, trying to convince those living there to fight for his cause – i.e. the abolition of Sauron. And he had told those who were willing to help to meet at this place at this time with a giant army. And, thankfully, they had all obliged.

Gandalf was relieved by the sight of Saladrion. He was even more relieved by the sight of the large army that now stood between them and the forces of Sauron.

"He never left us..." he muttered.

Pippin beamed at the sight of the elf. "I knew he'd come back!"

"I feel bad about calling him a coward..." said Théoden sheepishly.

Aragorn watched, astonished, as Saladrion rode up to the Witch-King defiantly. The leader of the Nazgûl, along with the rest of Mordor's army, looked surprised and scared at the sight of reinforcements.

"You really wish you hadn't marched today, don't you?" Saladrion asked in a voice that carried back to Mirkwood so that Aragorn could hear every word.

"No, you're going to wish that you didn't return today!" snarled the Witch-King.

"No, _you're _going to wish that I didn't return today."

"No we're not! We will crush you, and your little army, and we'll have you begging for mercy before we kill you!"

"Once again, you reveal your spectacular ignorance of the situation."

"_Spectacular_- You take that back after you've explained what you're on about!"

"Don't you get it?" said Saladrion exasperatedly. "The free people of Middle Earth would rather _die_ than bow to you! You can conquer all the land in Arda, but you will _never_ – and I mean _ever - _conquer the one thing that makes this land alive! You can't conquer the souls of the people that live here! Without that, Middle Earth is worthless."

"There is no value in _souls!_" sneered the Witch-King. "There is no worth in character! There is no power in hope!"

"You're wrong. There is more power in hope than you could ever imagine. Just wait and see what it does to you."

Saladrion turned from the Witch-King without another word. As he rode back, he noticed how everyone looked scared by the prospect of fighting the massive army. Something needed to change. He decided to do something that he had vowed never to do...

"Stand your ground!" he shouted in a voice that carried over the entire city. "Elves, dwarves, men, all of you, stand your ground! I see in every one of your eyes that you are scared. But courage is found not in the absence of fear, but in the face of fear, when you choose to stand rather than run away. Even I fear death. But what I fear more is to live under a world of shadow. And I believe that there is nothing worth living for in a world where Sauron rules supremely. We are the free people of Middle Earth, and we will not be enslaved by this tyrant! I believe that it is better to die on your feet than to live on your knees! And if we die today, then at least we are dying free! And if we die, we die in the knowledge that we are fighting for a better world! We are fighting for a world where we can live, united by a common cause, where our families, our wives, our sons, our daughters, can live in peace. Because no matter what, this ends today! We will not be enslaved! We will not be tied down! We will not live on our knees, bowing to the destroyer of all things good! This is our day, and if we make an end today, we will make such an end that will be worthy of remembrance in legend, or in song! So I ask you now to unite, the free people of Middle Earth!"

With that, the white horse reared up. The elf astride her cast back his blue hood and balaclava, as the sun broke over the cliff, splitting the sky with a streak of gold. As the hood fell against the cloak, some unknown magic turned the garments from dark blue to a dazzling white, as a mane of long blonde hair spilled down the elf's back. The elf turned to face the city, and Aragorn's jaw was not the only one to drop at the sight of that face. Gimli was not the only person astonished as he recognised those features. Gandalf's heart was not the only one that was filled with hope as he realised who the mysterious elf was who went by the name of Saladrion. Everything seemed to click into place for everyone.

Legolas was still alive.


	20. Chapter Twenty: Battle

Chapter Twenty – Battle

Sauron stared, transfixed, at the elf from his vantage point on a hill. How was it possible that Legolas had survived? Wasn't he meant to be dead? Nobody had actually strictly _told_ him about the escape, and he had just let his strengthened captain run riot over Middle Earth. And now he knew why his captain had been so eager to do so.

"What is that elf doing there?" he asked the Witch-King, his eyes quite literally blazing.

"Erm... yeah... about that..." the Witch-King was somewhat hesitant with his reply.

-:-

Aragorn stared in wonder at Legolas. He was still unsure how his clothes had managed to change colour, but that was the least of his concerns. Legolas glanced around at his kingdom, and briefly their eyes met. Legolas spared the man a smile, which the man couldn't return due to his mouth forming a perfect circle. The elf glanced up at the palace where his elven eyes could make out Areya, beaming at him. Within a few seconds, his father also emerged from the wrecked doors of the palace, and his mouth fell open, his expression identical to most of the rest of Mirkwood. He spared his king a wave, and with that the grief seemed to drop from Thranduil. Most of those who looked back up at him seemed to see Thranduil as he once was, before the fall of Oropher at the last alliance, a new hope kindled in his eyes. Yet those who looked harder saw the truth. Thranduil was stronger than he was at the first fall of Sauron, and the revelation that his son had survived seemed to make him rise higher than ever before.

"Ion nîn..." he murmured, his face lighting up.

Legolas turned to face the oncoming army. He saw Sauron ride up to him, flanked by his captain. Legolas started to ride back to them, eager to rub the Witch-King's monumental screw-up and miscalculation in his face.

"Aren't you supposed to be dead?" snarled Sauron.

"How lovely to see you too," replied Legolas pleasantly. "And didn't your captain tell you? I escaped via a hitherto unknown pass by the Mountains of Shadow."

"Why was I not told this before?" Sauron snapped to his captain, who had remained very silent and was now taking an extraordinary amount of interest in the sky.

"Lovely day, isn't it?" the Witch-King tried desperately to change the subject.

"Yes, it is, isn't it?" Legolas joined in for no other purpose than to see Sauron get more and more furious.

"SILENCE!" bellowed the Dark Lord in such a loud voice that most elves in Mirkwood clamped their hands over their ears. Legolas however remained unmoved, not even flinching.

"Temper, temper," he said, his smile broadening.

This was too much for Sauron, who raised a hand and struck Legolas hard across the face. The sound echoed loudly over the plains, and several people flinched on the elf's behalf. Legolas was motionless for a moment, before straightening up, and glaring at Sauron with such a ferocity that both of their horses took a step back. Sauron was terrified by the fire that blazed in the elf's eyes. Without a word, the elf turned and rode back towards the city, hiding the broad grin that spread across his face.

While _this_ exchange had been going on, Mirkwood's army had arranged itself behind the gates, and Thranduil had donned his armour, and rode out to see his son. Rohan's forces had also lined up behind the gate, and at the head of the column rode Théoden, Éomer, Aragorn (with Gimli sitting behind the man), Gandalf bearing Pippin, Elladan and Glorfindel.

Thranduil came up behind them, but none of them saw the ancient, grief-stricken father who had been there when they arrived. They now saw a king, tall and proud, ready to lead his people into battle.

"Ready?" he asked the eight people who were planning on leading their forces into battle as the gates opened.

"Always," replied Elladan smugly.

"You knew all along, didn't you?" asked Gandalf, fairly certain of the answer.

"What gave it away?"

"You were the only person who didn't look surprised."

"Aye," conceded Elladan. "I knew. It was an accident that I found out, though."

"No it wasn't!" Glorfindel cut in, laughing. "You and Elrohir were eavesdropping!"

"No we weren't!"

"You were, Elladan. There is no point denying it."

Legolas had reappeared through the gates, his hair dancing in the breeze. Everyone fell silent at the sight of the prince. Gimli was the first to stir.

"I swear to the Valar," screamed the irate dwarf, "if we get out of this alive, I'm going to kill you, laddie!"

"Why didn't you tell me?" asked Thranduil, the hurt in his voice clear.

"I didn't want to put you in danger. Gohendo nin, Ada."

The gates opened fully, and the combined armies of Mirkwood and Rohan left the city, facing the oncoming horde of Mordor. With a cry, both sides charged simultaneously.

Legolas plunged into the fray. Drawing both his knives, he swiftly beheaded two orcs before they registered that the armies had clashed. Both sides locked themselves in deadly combat with each other, but the disorganised orcs stood very little chance against the combined armies of Gondor, Rohan, Mirkwood, the Dunedain, the Lonely Mountain and Isengard. Sauron had betrayed Saruman and had tried to assassinate him, and as a result, Legolas had had very little trouble convincing the wizard to fight for him.

Sauron had hung back. He was not going to fight until he had to, or until Mirkwood was as good as won. With a single nod to his captain, Sauron unleashed one of his deadlier weapons.

A scream echoed out over the battlefield. The various races looked up in horror to see a dark shadow descend over them, blocking out the sunlight. All of them froze in horror as they recognised what it was. The horses of Rohan started desperately trying to flee.

"Mandos save us," breathed Glorfindel.

The Nazgûl were flying towards them.

Sweeping down into the fray, they wreaked total and utter devastation, killing anything in their path, be it man, elf, dwarf and orc alike.

Arrows sailed high into the air, trying to bring down the creatures. But all the arrows were in vain, and a shadow around them prevented the elves from actually seeing their mark and they were relying on luck. However, lady luck had forsaken them, and arrows merely bounced off of the steeds' armour, or else missed entirely.

"Isn't this meant to be dawn?" Legolas growled through gritted teeth, his eyes glanced dubiously up at the sky which appeared to be a second night.

Small lights started flying up towards the sky. Somebody had shot a flaming arrow up, and several others had followed suit. But the shadow descended onto them, and the Witch-King faced the king of Rohan.

Snowmane reared suddenly and unexpectedly as the Black Captain flew towards Théoden, and Théoden fell as his horse bolted. He stood up defiantly, facing his doom with his head held high. The Witch-King laughed at the man's bravery, which he saw as foolishness.

"You dare stand against me?" he laughed, facing Théoden with his sword pointing at Théoden's neck.

"I will stand against you and all of the Black Land's forces on my own if I had to!"

The Witch-King swung his mace at him, and Théoden dodged, but he didn't see the sword slice through the air until a split second before it hit him, ducking a little too late. It slashed open his arm, and a blinding pain shot across his body, causing him to drop his sword. The Witch-King kicked the sword out of his reach as the man fell to his knees. He looked up as the Witch-King prepared to deal the deadly blow, and watched the sword fly through the air. The cold metal pierced his chest, but when it was removed, he felt a burning pain spread around his heart. Warm blood soaked his tunic, and in a dream he saw a sword plunge through his enemy's mouth, the captain of the troops who had come as reinforcements take off their helmet and check on their king. He saw Eowyn's face loom above him, tears falling down her frantic expression. He saw her lips move, but couldn't hear her voice, couldn't make out what she was saying, couldn't understand why she was there...

Darkness clouded his vision, and he fell back into Eowyn's arms.

* * *

><p>Eowyn sobbed uncontrollably as she laid her uncle down on the floor. A madness took her, and she got to her feet. All of these orcs, everything that fought under the flag of the red eye was responsible for her uncle's death. She madly plunged back into the fray, unable to notice what she was doing, who she was killing. She just hacked and stabbed everything that came within reach of her. She didn't hear someone call her name, she just felt a pain in her back as something stabbed her. She fell to the ground next to her uncle, her captain, her king, and that was the last thing she ever saw.<p>

* * *

><p>Legolas watched in horror as Eowyn crumpled, revealing a black figure, who wiped his sword lazily against the dead woman's body. Everyone backed away as a tall shadow approached Legolas, who was almost paralysed with fear.<p>

Sauron had joined the fight.


	21. Chapter Twenty One: Over

**A/N: Like I said, I'm not a fan of these, but sorry there was such a long wait for this chapter. It was due to the world's longest exam period and it's FINALLY over (until May...) But yeah, new chapter (yay!) and I promise, there will not be half as long a wait for the next one as there was for this one. Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter Twenty-One – Over<span>

Legolas looked up as Sauron approached. He threw away the orc that he was fighting and faced him unafraid.

"Hello," the elf said cockily. "Remember me?"

Sauron didn't answer, but swung his sword over his head, intending to bring it crashing down onto Legolas' head. But Legolas parried it and threw it to one side.

"Yes, I remember you," Sauron said furiously. "You're the elf who wasn't strong enough to save his friends."

"It wasn't a fair fight!"

"As I recall you had two knives that were hitherto unknown about. Aren't those the same knives?" Sauron nodded at his weapons.

"Yes."

"They are laced with a poison strong enough to bring down a balrog. I think it was a fair fight. And you failed, just like you failed at everything else!"

"No, I'm not a failure-"

"You failed to resist the bait I offered you, and that cost you the lives of two of your friends."

"And I've learnt from my mistakes, and I'm not biting this time!"

Sauron started walking in circles around Legolas, his sword level all the time. Legolas never once turned his back on the Dark Lord, and never once took his eyes off his face.

"You're supposed to be lying in a pit dead!" Sauron hissed.

"And you're supposed to be sitting by yourself in a tower getting increasingly lonely, but yet neither of us are in those places, are we?" Legolas responded scathingly. "Haven't you ever thought of finding yourself a girl?"

"All credit to you though," Sauron tried a different tack. "You successfully managed to fool most of Middle Earth that you were dead. Including your own father. How did you manage that?"

"I'm a good actor."

"But that horse," Sauron nodded at Demetreos. "Stands out quite a lot, doesn't she? Didn't anyone recognise it?"

"I've never ridden her in front of people."

"How did you survive?"

"I don't know. Maybe the Valar sent me back to kill you. Who knows?"

"Who knows..."

Sauron suddenly swung his sword at Legolas' side. Legolas brought his knives to meet them, before throwing the lethal attack away with equal ferocity. Sauron then rushed at the elf, his sword raised and trained on Legolas' face. Legolas raised his knives, and metal clashed with metal. The combatants refused to yield on either side, their weapons grinding against each other. Legolas finally threw the sword away from him, and Sauron staggered. The elf, sensing weakness, rushed at his opponent, but Sauron spun on his feet, to bring his sword clashing with Legolas' knives, which he raised just in time to save the sword from smashing open his face. Sauron started bringing his sword down again and again onto Legolas, who was forced to go on the defensive and couldn't use his knives for anything other than parrying, and was forced to back away from the Dark Lord. He tripped over a badly placed rock, and was sprawled at Sauron's feet.

"Look around you," snarled Sauron. "Look around you at those who died for you!"

Legolas glanced around. Lying not far from him lay Gimli, his throat slit open, blood cascading down his neck. His eyes passed over the dead bodies of Dallan and Anna, and even as he watched the battle unfold, he saw an orc stab Glorfindel through the chest, and watched him fall to the floor. He saw an arrow take down the second son of the steward of Gondor. _What a bitter fate... For both of the Steward's sons to be killed on the same person's orders, in the same way..._ He felt a stab of guilt as he realised that all of these deaths could have been avoided. He thought back to Rivendell, to Lothlórien, and how none of those people would have died if he had. Every single drop of blood that had been shed, right back to Frodo's and Sam's, was on his hands. This guilt turned to anger at himself, and then fury to the one who had spilt that blood.

With a cry, he threw all his weight onto his shoulder, swinging his legs around, and catching Sauron unaware. Sauron fell to the ground, and Legolas got to his feet, pointing his knives at Sauron's head.

"I was not the one who killed them. I did not ask them to die for me. They did _not_ die for me. They died for Middle Earth. They died for their freedom. They died so that Arda could regain some of its former glory, and not be ruled over by a tyrant like you. And let me tell you something. They will keep on fighting. They will continue to fight until you are dead. And I will most certainly be there to see you die!"

With that, he whistled, and Elladan and Gandalf appeared by Legolas' side.

"Face it, Sauron," Legolas said angrily. "It's over."

As the three of them placed the elven rings onto their fingers, they simultaneously imagined the destruction of Sauron. Elladan watched in awe as Vilya lit up, and his hand lit up, before he was blinded by a white light. An enormous cracking sound rent the air, and an impossibly strong breeze blew him backwards. The breeze swept over the entire battlefield, and everything that was under the orders of Sauron was destroyed. They did not know it, but as Elladan, Gandalf and Legolas had imagined the destruction of Sauron, every other free creature in Middle Earth had been thinking of nothing else, and as a result, a magic of the three rings that was unknown even to Fëanor had harnessed that power and directed it onto Sauron. So the entire population of Middle Earth fell over, as a sound echoed across every land that existed. Elladan felt light-headed, as he now lay there exhausted. His ears were ringing and his eyes were still adjusting back to normal light. He could hear voices faintly over the ringing, but couldn't discern any words. At least, until one particularly jarring cry was processed by his brain.

"_LEGOLAS!_"

Elladan sat upright, to find that Gandalf was already on his knees, and crawling over to the elf, who lay spread-eagled across the grass. Aragorn and Thranduil, who had been nearby, were already at his side. Legolas was very pale, and was unconscious. Thranduil was shaking him, all the while repeating his son's name, begging him to return.

But Legolas wasn't answering.


	22. Chapter Twenty Two: Plea

Chapter Twenty-Two – Plea

Raél was ushered over by two guards. He was considered by almost everyone as the best healer Mirkwood had to offer, and he had certainly had plenty of practise. He was Dallan and Anna's younger brother, and despite the fact that as he had been led to the prince he had seen his siblings lying dead, he was allowed no time to mourn for them. He loathed Thranduil and his dratted orders at that moment, regardless of the fact that at that point, Thranduil was just another frantic parent, the likes of which he had seen countless times.

As he was ushered into the clearing, a phenomenal sight met his eyes. Sauron's armour lay in a shapeless heap on blackened, burned grass, the ring lay, broken in two, beside it, and the prince lay beside, his eyes shut, with Nenya still on his finger. Thranduil knelt beside him, occasionally shaking his lifeless form.

Raél struggled to process the scene before Thranduil got (somewhat ungracefully) to his feet and seized his tunic.

"Please, please, can you do something for my son?" he begged, his voice sounding strangled and broken. "Please?"

Raél knelt down beside the prince, his eyes swiftly scanning Legolas' body analytically. After about half a minute, he knew three things:

One – he didn't have the faintest idea what was wrong with Legolas.

Two – Legolas needed to be moved back to Mirkwood, and back to the healing halls which the prince despised so much.

Three – There would be hell to pay if Legolas died.

"Right," Raél said. "We need to get him out of here."

* * *

><p><em>Two days later...<em>

The only thing that had changed was the setting.

Legolas was still inexplicably unconscious. Thranduil was still fretting around the place like an overexcited rabbit on steroids, only louder and crying his eyes out. And nobody had any idea what was wrong with Legolas.

Raél may love his king, but at that point in time, he was getting slightly (using the word loosely) irritated by the king who just stubbornly refused to shut up and let him get on with his work in peace. This was not the first time he'd experienced overanxious parents, and he wished to the Valar that it was his first time where that parent had been the king, but in previous circumstances, Raél had usually been able to diagnose exactly what was wrong within one or two hours, the delay usually being caused by not finding any wound instantly. The problem with this was not so much that Raél couldn't find any wound. It was more a case of there were so many of the bloody things. And Raél couldn't find the _right_ wound. And he didn't have the faintest idea as to where to start.

Legolas had suffered a lot in his month's imprisonment in the dungeons of Mordor. His back was criss-crossed with dark red scars that were yet to heal, if they would at all, that had been caused by various orcs hitting his back repeatedly with a heavy, spiked chain. Legolas had lost count of the times that they had hit him, ripping open his skin and tearing his flesh as easily as they would eat a drumstick. Raél thought it possible that Legolas may have picked up an infection from the chain, but it would have manifested itself much sooner, and there would have been countless tell-tale signs.

Then there were bite marks around his neck. Raél had nearly thrown up when he had seen these. He had seen them once before, covering Legolas' mother's body when Legolas was barely more than a baby. The last queen of Mirkwood, Queen Laureiane, who had been Thranduil's bride for scarcely more than three centuries, had been taken by orcs one night when she was out walking in the forest. Her body had been unceremoniously dumped before the palace doors one morning, or at least what was left of her body. The orcs that had captured her had ripped her to pieces and devoured her flesh. Since then, Legolas had been all that Thranduil had left. Raél's father had been given the task of examining that body. At the time, Raél had been a child, bordering on adolescence, and was his father's apprentice. He had long since failed to etch the images from his brain, and seeing them on Laureiane's only child broke his heart. The orcs had taken bites out of Legolas' neck when they got particularly impatient with his silence.

Once Raél had torn his eyes away from those all-too-familiar marks that covered his neck, Raél focused on the burns that covered his torso. One time, the orcs were sickened with Legolas' resolution to remain silent, and so in a last-ditch attempt, they had poured oil over his chest before igniting it. They had listened to the sound of his screams for over an hour as they watched him burn like a torch, before he had finally collapsed, unconscious, unable to withstand the darkness any longer. Legolas was going to have those burns for the rest of his life.

After Raél looked at those, he noticed a large stab wound in his chest, directly over his heart. It was clearly an old wound – in fact it was the one from the fight Legolas had had with Sauron in the cage. Raél knew that if this had caused any damage, that damage would have killed him a long time ago.

Raél also noticed the small burns on Legolas' lips. He recognised those as well. He really did throw up at those. The orcs had poured acid down his throat one time, in the first couple of days of his imprisonment, when he had hurled abuse at them. He had started shouting about how he hoped Elbereth would destroy that "son of a ************* ***** Sauron," using language that orcs would shudder using. And when Legolas started shouting the Dark Lord's name, said Dark Lord ordered those words to be burnt from his tongue, and so someone had poured acid down his throat. Raél admitted that this should have killed him, but it should have killed him a long time ago.

Then there were the countless scratches and scars that covered every part of his body, from his cheek down to his ankles. There was one particularly nasty gash on his arm that hadn't healed at all, but Raél hadn't looked at it properly, but doubted that it would cause Legolas' coma. But, just to be on the safe side, he examined it.

He realised just how wrong he had been.

* * *

><p>Aragorn stood up as Raél entered the corridor where he, Gandalf, Areya, Elladan and Thranduil were sitting, or in Thranduil's case, walking up and down the corridor so much that it made everyone watching him dizzy. Thranduil stopped his relentless pacing, staring at Raél with red eyes.<p>

"Well?" he demanded.

"There's no change," Raél responded. "But I do now know what's killing him."

"_Killing _him?" echoed Aragorn. Raél mentally kicked himself. That was a bad choice of words.

"A long time ago, he sustained a wound to his arm. It was laced with a poison that nobody really knows anything about."

"Poison?" Thranduil's already-red eyes became redder.

"Venom, to be precise."

Thranduil started pacing again, his head bowed so that nobody could see his face. He may have a temper that was not to be reckoned with, but you had to hand it to him, he was a very good father.

"Balrog venom." Raél finally said.

Aragorn fell down again, his mouth open in shock. Gandalf closed his eyes in defeat, knowing that he didn't have long for this world. Elladan shook his head silently, his eyes wide and cast to the ceiling, as though by refusing to accept it the Valar would be persuaded to make it untrue. And Thranduil stopped his pacing and collapsed to the floor, being caught by Areya just before his head hit a chair. Areya guided the king onto the chair, where he buried his face in his hands, sobbing. Through the sobs one word was distinguishable, repeated countless times – "No."

Eventually Aragorn spoke. "Can we see him?"

Raél nodded, thinking only of the wreck of Thranduil. He would want to see _his _son if he had just been told this.

Once the six were inside, Raél and Gandalf stood back, knowing it would be sensible to allow the four people closest to the prince a bit of space. And that four were shocked by the state he was in. Nobody said a word as Thranduil stared longingly at his son's face.

"Please wake up, my son," he murmured.

Thranduil was confused. Before, he had been desperate to see his son, but now, he didn't think he could bear to see what Sauron had done to Legolas. He shook his head.

"No!" he said defiantly. This was a dream. It couldn't be true. He left, determined to wake up. It just couldn't be true. It wasn't true. It wasn't!

Elladan watched as Areya buried her face in her hands, and watched as the king left the room. He could see the denial on Aragorn's face. He couldn't bear to look at Legolas, to see what had been done to him, so he focused instead on everyone else's reactions.

Aragorn looked at Legolas. It was impossible that his friend could have survived all this, let alone resist it.

"Please, Legolas," he whispered, as tears fell down his face. "Please forgive me. For saying what I said to you at Helm's Deep. For leaving you to die when I knew you had been taken. For letting you go through all this. For not trusting you. For letting you feel that you couldn't trust me. But please, I'll do anything for you to come back. Anything. I'll make everything right for you. I'll hunt down those who did this to you. I'll sail to Valinor with you. I'll do anything, just come back to me. Please!" Aragorn grabbed Legolas' shoulders, becoming irrationally angry. "Wake up, damn you! Wake _up!_ Just wake up, and I'll do anything for you! I said- wake- UP! _PLEASE!_"

Gandalf and Elladan pulled Aragorn away, and Aragorn stormed out of the room with his foster-brother, sobbing.

-:-

About ten minutes later, Thranduil came back. He entered the room, his eyes glazed with tears. He sat down and looked at Legolas' face.

"Leave," he said eventually, his voice hoarse.

Everyone looked at him, but Thranduil stared at Legolas' face. "I'm sorry?" Raél finally asked.

"Please, leave me alone with my son." His voice broke. "It might be my last chance to _be_ alone with him."

"Thranduil, I really don't think that's a good idea..." Gandalf began hesitantly.

"Just _GO AWAY!_" Thranduil screamed as he turned around. His face reminded everyone of a wild animal, as he panted desperately. Everyone cast him a scared look before leaving. As the door shut behind Areya, he looked back to Legolas, and began to sob uncontrollably.

"Please, Legolas... Don't die... Not now."


	23. Chapter Twenty Three: Saviour

Chapter Twenty-Three – Saviour

Raél entered the room where Legolas lay. He silently watched the prince's chest move up and down with each breath, and prayed to the Valar that he would wake. And perhaps the Valar listened, if indeed they were there, and Legolas' eyes slowly fluttered open. However, whatever deity controlled fate had one more surprise in store.

"My lord!" breathed Raél, elated.

"How many times have I asked you never to call me 'my lord?'" Legolas rasped. His throat hurt, and he couldn't move his body.

"I'm sorry," Raél replied. "How do you feel?"

"How... How does terrible sound to you?"

"Listen..." Raél said hesitantly, unsure how best to approach the topic. "There may have been some complications. Can you move your arm?"

Legolas tried, but found that no matter how hard he tried, his arm refused to respond to his brain. He saw Raél's face fall, and knew that something was very wrong.

"How about the other arm? Your legs? Can you move your head at all?" Raél asked desperately.

Legolas tried each one in turn, and found that he couldn't.

"It is as I feared," whispered Raél.

"What is it?" asked Legolas, confused.

"You've been paralysed from the neck down. The balrog's venom has rendered your body unable to move. I'm sorry, but there is no cure."

Now Legolas' face fell. He tried to hide the tears forming in his eyes, but it wasn't easy considering he couldn't move his head.

"I'll leave you alone..." Raél muttered awkwardly.

"No. Please stay," Legolas begged.

So Raél sat down, uncertain of what to do.

"I cannot thank you enough," Legolas finally said. "You saved my life."

"At the cost of your mobility..." Raél said quietly.

"No. You didn't take that from me." Legolas' face darkened. "Sauron did."

"I should have been able to save you-"

"From a poison that nobody knew anything about? You did brilliantly. But in a way, I'd rather that you hadn't."

"What?" Raél paused, unsure if he'd heard correctly.

"Look at me, Raél!" Legolas looked exasperated. "I can't even move. This room is going to be the last thing I ever see. I can't even move. I'm just a shell. Eventually the poison will spread to my face, and I won't be able to talk, but I'll still be alive. And if this is the life I'm going to live, then I'd rather not live at all."

"What do you want me to-" Comprehension dawned upon Raél. "Oh..."

"Please... I wouldn't ask if I could do it myself..."

"I'm not going to murder my prince!" Raél was aghast.

"Raél, Sauron got there long before you ever could, even if you wanted to. He took everything from me. My liberty, my identity, even my ability to _move!_ He has already killed me. If you just let me live, then my father will be so elated, only to be crushed in a few weeks time when I die then. Giving him false hope will make his fall harder. And I... I can't live like this. I can't be solely dependent on other people. I'm sorry, but I can't. Please, Raél," Legolas turned pleading eyes onto the healer. "I'm not asking you to kill me. I'm asking you to save me."

Raél looked long and hard into his prince's eyes. He saw the aching sadness that all in Mirkwood felt at that time, having lost so much but still remained living. The Valar knew that Raél was mourning for the loss of Dallan and Anna, and he wanted his life to end. He knew that the king couldn't stand to lose his son again, but he also knew that the king would, and if it was going to happen, it would be better for that to happen sooner rather than later. But the king would want to say goodbye...

Raél turned away from Legolas to face his medicine cabinet, and pulled out a large cup and two bottles of different sleeping draughts. He emptied both bottles into the cup. If both those draughts were mixed in large quantities, then it could create a toxic solution that would painlessly kill anybody. He held the cup towards Legolas' mouth, but Legolas had something to say before he drank it.

"Please... could you tell Aragorn that... I'm sorry for all the things I said to him, at Helm's Deep, and that... that I know he will make an amazing king of Gondor..."

Raél nodded, tears filling his eyes.

"Tell Areya... Tell her that I love her... And tell Elladan that Rivendell can be great again... if he chooses to return... And tell my father... Tell him that I'm sorry... I'm so, so sorry..."

Raél nodded again as tears spilled down his cheeks. Legolas opened his mouth just a fraction, allowing the cold liquid to pour down his throat. He closed his eyes, and before he departed this world, two final words passed his lips.

"Thank you."


	24. Epilogue: Pyre

Epilogue – Pyre

_Three days later..._

Everywhere you looked was black. The mood was black. Everyone was wearing black. The houses were draped with black. Even the river looked grey.

It was raining, once again reflecting the mood that had fallen across Mirkwood. In the centre of the city stood an enormous structure. It was a dry, wooden structure, made up of several layers, held up by thin beams. Upon each layer lay the dead. Or more accurately, the dead who hadn't fought under the red eye.

Near the bottom lay those who nobody had identified. The unknown soldiers who nobody knew.

Above them lay those who were not considered hugely important, but who still had family and/or friends who mourned for them.

Further up the structure lay the more important people. Glorfindel, Gimli, Merry, Pippin (both of whom had been discovered amongst the unknown soldiers), Eowyn, Théoden, and Faramir lay there, and people had come from all the various lands to pay their respects to their various lords.

In pride of place lay Legolas. Everyone respected him as the hero who had died to save them. And everyone was equally upset by his passing.

Well, nearly everyone. Raél watched from a distance, outside the city walls. After he had explained what had happened when Legolas awoke to Thranduil, he had been banished. Gandalf had tried to plead his case to the king, but the king was beyond reason. He wanted someone to blame for his son's death, and Raél had fitted the bill perfectly. After all, he had been the one who had delivered the poison to his heir. And Thranduil had banished him from his home, to return on pain of death. He wasn't even allowed to return for his brother's and sister's funeral. And he loathed the prince for it. Legolas had begged him, without even a thought for the consequences that there would be for Raél, and even asked him to deliver messages to his loved ones. Raél was furious, and now thought of the prince as the most selfish person anyone was ever likely to meet. He cursed all of Oropher's descendants, and no longer wanted anything to do with them.

Thranduil was inconsolable. First Oropher, then Laureiane, and now Legolas. He hated Sauron and wanted nothing more than to destroy him all over again, for all he had done to his family. But, Thranduil reflected, at least Legolas got there first.

Everyone stood around the huge wooden structure, and tears glazed nearly every face, and those that weren't had their heads bowed as a sign of respect. Thranduil took one last look at his son's face. He had been cleaned up, dressed in his best clothes, and his bow and knives lay beside him. He looked so peaceful, his lips graced with an eternal smile. Thranduil smiled at how Legolas could have almost been sleeping, if his eyes hadn't been shut.

"Farewell, my son," Thranduil murmured. "Be at peace in the halls of Mandos. I have no doubt I will join you soon."

Everyone watched as Thranduil dropped the torch onto the wooden structure. Those who weren't crying before found that they could no longer stop tears flowing down their faces, mixing with the rain. Tears fell so fast from Raél's eyes far away that it put the waterfall to shame as he saw the flames go up.

Thranduil watched as the flames took his son away from him.

"Goodbye," he murmured.

* * *

><p>After the fire went out, Thranduil locked himself in his chambers, and lay down on his bed. True, he had risen higher than ever before, but that only made the fall that much harder. He faded before the sun had set.<p>

Areya left for the Grey Havens the next morning, departing with most of the population of Mirkwood. But even Valinor could not help her forget what had happened to her fiancé, and she found no peace anywhere.

Elladan left for Rivendell shortly afterwards, and set about repairing the damage that had been done to his realm. He held a private memorial service for his father, his sister and his twin brother. But he was long acknowledged as one of the greatest rulers of Rivendell. Those who had survived the assaults on Mirkwood and Rivendell and had decided not to sail now resided there, under Elladan's rule.

Aragorn took up his throne in Gondor, and was thought of as the greatest king of men. By some he was thought of as the greatest ruler of the fourth age, but he never really recovered from what had been done under Sauron's attempt to take Middle Earth. He never really recovered from the deaths of his friends, and although he acted in public like he had, he never forgot what had been done to Legolas, and always held a burning desire for revenge.

Gandalf left for the Grey Havens with Areya, and, try as he might, he could never console her about what had been done to Legolas.

Raél never forgot Legolas' final words. He never forgot what Legolas had asked him to do. He never forgot what it had cost him to do that. And he never forgave him. He never left Mirkwood's forest, and he spent an eternity wandering that wood.

And nobody ever repaired the city of Mirkwood. Mirkwood stood, in its ruined state, as a monument, a symbol of what Sauron had done to Middle Earth. It stood as a tribute to what one very determined prince had led the world to do. And it stood as a tribute to the strength of what the concept of freedom can do.

And freedom changed the world.

**THE END**


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